Night Prowler
by astridloker
Summary: Each chapter in this series will follow Sam and Dean on original hunts from Season 1 to current. Some chapters introduce original characters. Some chapters are rated MA for (het) sexual content. Ch. 1 "Night Prowler" follows Sam and Dean to San Diego, CA, where reports of healthy women falling into comas have made the news. (Please let me know if you enjoyed reading!)
1. Night Prowler

Night Prowler | **81**

**Disclaimer: **_This is a work of fanfiction using characters from CW's Supernatural. I am not affiliated with CW nor do I claim ownership of any part of Supernatural. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported to be canon. _

_Song credits: AC DC - Night Prowler, Beach Boys - California Girls_

_Note: Andrea is an original character, obviously not the same Andrea featured in Season 1 Episode 3 'Dead in the water'. Chapter 1 takes place in Season 1 sometime after episode 14, before episode 16, probably in May 2006. Chapter 1 is longer than subsequent chapters due to its introductory nature. _

_Warning: Contains sexually explicit content. _

**Supernatural**

**Chapter 1**

**"Night Prowler"**

Dean entered the motel room with a brown bag stained with oil in the corners and set it down on the table beside Sam's laptop. "Find anything yet, Sammy? It's been a week since we've gotten any hits. It's not like evil takes vacations. There's gotta be something."

"Actually, I did," Sam answered, turning his laptop to face him. He opened the bag and pulled out a burger dripping grease from its paper sheathe and made a face at Dean. He'd asked for Subway or some other less artery-clogging alternative.

Dean caught the look, "Hey, this is a small town. They don't have much to choose from. And their burgers are _good_. You'll thank me later."

"This might not be up our alley, but it made the news," Sam said, nodding to the laptop. "The doctor says it's some kind of medical anomaly. Healthy people are falling into comas out of the blue, dropping like flies. There are already four in the hospital after four days. And the reporter says they suspect some kind of drug use, but drug screens came up clean." He bit into the sandwich, holding it over the paper bag so it didn't drip grease in his lap.

"This sounds familiar," Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "Think it's another shtriga hunt?"

Sam answered mid chew, "Not children."

"Let's check it out," Dean agreed, eager to be on the move again. He looked at Sam, "Oh, you spilled some sauce on your shirt." Sam inspected himself, and Dean flipped his nose up with his finger and chuckled. "C'mon, Sammy, oldest trick in the book."

Sam fixed him with an unamused look and took another bite of his burger before dropping the remainder back in the bag. "We're going to California."

"That's pretty far out of the way. But maybe we'll find you a nice blonde," Dean grinned and packed his bag, then followed Sam out to the car.

"Can you wait until after we finish the job before picking up on girls?" Sam asked, taking his seat on the passenger side.

Dean shrugged and smirked, "We'll see what happens. Wouldn't want to pass up a golden opportunity." He started humming 'California Girls' by the Beach Boys.

Sam rolled his eyes. He knew what that meant. They made their way from Arizona to San Diego in one six-hour leg. Sam fell asleep on the ride, and as Dean pulled into a cheap, independently run motel, he hit the brakes hard, jarring Sam awake.

"That is NOT funny," Sam chastised, sitting upright.

"It's a little funny," Dean grinned. "We're here."

"I can tell you've been bored the last week. You're like a dog not getting enough exercise, you start chewing on the furniture," Sam said, stepping out of the car and walking around to the trunk.

"If by chewing on the furniture, you mean kicking the ass of all kinds of evil entities... then, yes, I'm like a dog without enough exercise. But one of those big awesome dogs. Like a German shepherd, not a poodle or a yorkie," Dean said, opening the trunk to retrieve their overnight bags.

"What about a labradoodle?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at Sam and opened his mouth to speak but paused, "What the hell is a labradoodle, and how do you know it?"

"It's a lab crossed with a poodle. I saw one at the park the other day."

Dean shook his head, closing the trunk, "You need to get laid."

They checked into the motel and settled into their room. It was reminiscent of the sixties; the walls were wood paneled with dusty, sun bleached classic movie posters nailed to them in glass frames. The floor was an aquamarine stained gray from foot tracks, and the bedding was a browned goldenrod. There was a partition of vertical wooden slats separating the bedroom from the bathroom door, and against the wall opposite the two twin size beds were a wooden dresser with an old tube television set and a round table with two chairs.

"Let's start at the hospital," Sam said, changing into his suit.

Dean nodded, "FBI, detectives, reporters or CDC?"

"CDC," Sam answered, opening his laptop to retrieve directions to the hospital mentioned in the article.

They drove a few miles downtown and pulled into the underground parking garage, finding a spot in back. Sam handed Dean his CDC badge from the glove compartment and clipped his own to his suit. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and tried to comb his hair back with his hand. "Damn it, I have a cowlick from sleeping on my side."

"You look fine," Dean said without looking at him.

They walked across the garage to the elevator and stepped inside with a nurse, all the while Sam trying to smooth his hair down. The nurse, a young, plump dark-haired woman in bright pink scrubs, looked up at them with a smile as she looked at their ID's. Sam returned the smile, clearing his throat as he tucked his hair behind his ear.

"Excuse me," Dean started, giving Sam a look before smiling at the nurse, "We're with the CDC. Would you mind telling us what floor you keep your patients with 'mysterious illnesses' on?" He noticed Sam give him a look and shrugged when the nurse looked away from him.

"Oh, you're looking for the seventh floor," she answered and reached across Sam to press the button for them.

"Thanks," Sam smiled. He stepped off the elevator first when it stopped at seven and walked over to the counter. He approached the desk, and the secretary looked up at him. "Hi, we're with the CDC. We're investigating the comatose patients in case we need to issue an alert."

The nurse checked his badge. "I'll get Doctor Rogers immediately," she said, picking up the phone to call the doctor. "There are two men from the CDC here to speak with you... uh huh... okay." She hung up. "He's on his way."

Dean leaned against the counter, flashing her a smile, "Do you mind if we take a look around?" He looked down the hall, "The patients are this way?"

"Go ahead," the secretary smiled back. "I hope you two can give us some insight on this." She leaned forward, speaking low, "Because between you and me? I'm about ready to use up all my vacation time just to get the hell out of here until this blows over."

Sam raised an eyebrow and nodded, "We'll try to get it sorted out."

Dean walked with Sam, bringing out his notepad to take down names as they walked by the rooms. He noticed a distraught looking woman sitting outside one of the rooms. "You want to take this one?"

"Sure," Sam answered, a little surprised Dean would pass up the opportunity to talk to a young woman. Maybe it was because she was such a mess. Sam walked over to the woman, and with his best bedside manner voice, asked softly, "Excuse me... miss?" He offered her a tissue. He always kept a travel pack of tissues with him on visits to hospitals or funeral homes.

The young woman looked up at him and took the tissue, wiping her eyes. She forced a smile at his kind gesture, "Thank you." She eyed his badge but didn't say anything.

"My name is Sam," he said, taking a seat beside her. "I'm with the CDC. Would it be okay if I ask you a couple questions?"

The woman nodded with a sniffle, looking into the room where her girlfriend lay. "Ask away. Anything to help Rebecca."

Sam took out his notepad and pen. "Did you notice anything unusual during the weeks leading up to Rebecca falling ill? Or even just the last couple days?" He added gently, "Anything at all, no matter how strange it might seem."

The young woman was quiet for a moment, thinking, then she answered, "There wasn't anything strange for the weeks leading up to this... but the last few days she's been a little off." She blew her nose into the tissue. "She came home from kickboxing and everything seemed normal. We ate dinner, watched a movie and then went to bed. She's an early riser." She smiled sadly thinking about it, "She always wakes me up in the morning, but that first morning, she didn't come knocking. In fact she hadn't gotten out of bed at all... She looked like she was drained, kinda like when you have the flu. But her temperature was fine. She said she was just tired. She stayed in bed all day and only got out of bed for dinner. She did mention having strange dreams but wouldn't tell me exactly what of... I'm sure it's unrelated. Probably stuff brought on by this sickness. The next morning, I-" she started crying. "I couldn't wake her up."

Sam nodded understandingly, "She didn't say anything about the dreams or what made them strange?" The woman shook her head, and Sam handed her another tissue. "Thanks. I don't think any information is irrelevant. You mentioned a kickboxing class. Is that the last place she went before it happened?"

"Yes," the woman sniffled and dug through her purse, then handed him a business card for the kickboxing studio. "Rebecca gave it to me. She was trying to get me to join up. She went to class every Monday and Wednesday at 7 p.m."

"Thanks," Sam said. 'Today is Wednesday,' he thought, 'Perfect.' He smiled at her, reassuringly, "I'll check it out. How have _you _been feeling though?"

"I don't think I caught whatever it is, I'm just... sad."

"I understand," Sam said, standing up. "Please, take care of yourself, and I'll try to get to the bottom of this."

Dr. Rogers put away a clipboard and looked up at Dean, "You're from the CDC? How can I help you, Mr...?"

"Agent Carlton," Dean said, showing him his badge. "My partner, Will, and I," he motioned to Sam down the hall, "were sent to investigate the recent trouble here and to see if an alert is needed to be issued. Do you have some time to answer a few questions?"

The doctor checked his watch, "I have a few minutes. I'm not sure what to tell you though. There is absolutely nothing physically wrong with them. They're all healthy young women, and the police have already investigated for foul play, in case they were poisoned, even though tests all came up clean." He sighed, "They haven't found a connection between them all yet either."

"So, this seems to only be affecting women," he said, scribbling a note down in his pad, "Are you sure there's no connection at all? Maybe they all work within spitting distance of a radioactive plant?"

The doctor gave him a look that said he was not amused. "There doesn't appear to be a pattern to where they live. They're spread out around the city. Two of them are students at the University, but the police are investigating that avenue now."

"Uh huh," Dean wrote it down. "Thanks for your time. We'll be in touch." He shook his hand and walked back over to Sam.

"Any leads?" Sam asked, pressing the down button for the elevator.

"They're all healthy young women. But he did say more than one of them is a student at the University. How about you? Did you get anything from that girl?" Dean looked at him.

Sam smirked and held up a business card.

Dean gave him a mock look of disgust, "Sammy... taking advantage of a girl in a crisis?" He snatched the card and looked at it, "Oh, it's a business card for a kickboxing class. Young women, possibly tight clothes, kicking things? This job is turning out great."

Sam stepped into the elevator with him, "Let's start with the University, at least it connects two of the victims."

They walked back to the car and drove across town to the University.

"What do you want to play make believe as this time?" Dean asked, unclipping his CDC badge. "Police officers? Chicks dig a man with a badge."

"Yeah, I think it'll be easier to ask questions this way," Sam said, switching out badges from the glove compartment. He looked at Dean, "Didn't you have enough fun last week?"

"You ever see an American Bulldog, Sammy?"

Sam furrowed his brow, not sure where this was going. "Yeah."

"Picture a bunch of 'em but as humans. No, I didn't have any fun last week."

"You were looking in the wrong places then." Sam stepped out of the car and walked with Dean toward the dormitories, "We're not going to anyone's party this time."

"Aw, c'mon, Sammy. It's college. You gotta learn to live a little."

Sam gave him a look, "I _went _to college."

"You went to college, but did you actually have fun?" Dean challenged, snagging a campus map from one of the Help areas.

"Yeah, I did," Sam argued. "Look, this thing works fast. We need to hurry before more people end up in the hospital. One person a day is what it's been so far. That means tomorrow morning, if we drop by the hospital, we'll probably have a fifth victim."

Dean opened the map and trailed his finger over a building, "The girl's dorms are over here. Which means we have to go..." He looked around for a landmark and pointed to his right, "this way."

"Keep your hormones in check, okay?" Sam added.

"Me?" Dean looked at him, "You know I'm a professional." They walked up to the door and tried to open it. Locked.

"A resident has to let us in," Sam said.

A girl approached from behind them, and Dean flashed his badge, "Excuse me. Detective Osborne and Detective Butler."

Sam held up his badge, "We're investigating a student, Britney Daller."

"Did something happen to her?" the student asked.

"She's in the hospital," Sam answered.

"Oh, wow. Well, I didn't really know her. She was in with those bitches at Kappa Beta Pi. Never understood it... she was nice, not slutty."

"Slutty sorority girls?" Dean stopped himself from grinning and cleared his throat.

Sam asked, "Can you point us in the right direction? Also, do you know," he checked his notepad, "Janine Wiens?"

"She lives in the dorm here," the girl answered, unlocking the door for them. "She's on the third floor in room 305. Her roomie should be in."

Dean smiled, "Thanks. Mind giving us your contact information in case we have any more questions?"

"Sure." The girl gave him her name and cell number to scribble into his note pad. "Call me whenever you want... for any reason." She smiled and walked inside to her room on the first floor.

Sam held the door open and looked at Dean, "Did I miss something? You didn't even hit on her."

Dean grinned, "And I still got her number. You heard her 'whenever I want' and 'for any reason.' We'll cover more ground if we split up. Why don't you interview the roommate and I'll go take care of the sorority girls?"

Sam sighed, "Fine. Just don't get carried away."

Dean walked backwards with a grin, holding his hands up in a half shrug. "When do I ever get carried away?"

Sam shook his head, taking the stairs up to the third floor. He found 305 and knocked on the door.

A girl in skinny jeans and a lopsided sweater with a mismatched waist cinching belt answered the door. She wore a headband over her asymmetrical pixie cut and large horn rimmed glasses. She could only be described as a hipster. "Uh, can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm Detective Butler, and I wanted to ask some questions about Janine. Do you mind if I come in?"

She shrugged and opened the door wider before walking back to her computer chair and plopping down into it. "I already told the cops that came here earlier: she wasn't sick, and I wasn't here that night. I was at a Republic of Letters concert and stayed over at my boyfriend's that night. When I came home and saw she was late for finals, I tried to wake her up. She wouldn't. I thought maybe she swallowed some sleeping pills or something, but she's not into that stuff."

"What do you mean 'not into that stuff'?"

"I mean, the only pills you'll find in her medicine cabinet are herbal remedies, like ginger pills and multivitamins. She's a health nut, doesn't believe in modern medicine."

"Alright, is there anything else about her life style that could attribute to her condition?"

The girl shrugged, swiveling back and forth in her chair, "She might have been anorexic."

"She didn't eat?"

"Only salads and fruit bars."

"Do you know if she has a schedule or if she was out the night before?"

The girl sighed, "She has yoga or pilates three days a week. She might have been there."

"Do you know where?"

She sighed again, turning her chair and typing up a name into google. "There."

"Thanks," Sam said, scribbling down the studio name and address. "Anything else?"

"No. She's been inside studying all week."

Sam tucked his notepad into his jacket. "Thanks for your time."

Dean looked up at the symbols on the sorority house, and to his left were a couple of girls sunbathing in bikinis. "God bless college girls." He walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

A voluptuous, blonde girl with straightened hair and a dark tan covered by lots of glittery makeup answered the door. She was in a sports bra and yoga shorts. She looked him up and down and smiled, "Hi there."

Dean returned the gesture and grinned, "Hi." He flashed his badge, "I was told that Britney is a member of this sorority. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions."

"Come on in," she said turning around to lead him inside. "I only have a few minutes before yoga." She looked over her shoulder at him, pleased to see his eyes drifting downward. She looked at two of her sorority sisters seated on the couch painting their toe nails. "Hands off, ladies. He's a cop." She mouthed, 'and he's mine.'

"Aww, but I like cops," the girl with her hair dyed a too-vibrant red smiled, "especially when there's handcuffs involved." She turned to the attractive Hispanic girl beside her and giggled.

"Yeah, me too. Don't be so selfish, Tammy."

Dean grinned, playing up the cop role. "Sorry ladies, I'm on duty. But I get to keep the handcuffs when I'm off." He turned back to Tammy as the two girls had themselves a giggle fit. "So, what can you tell me about Britney? Was she behaving oddly the week or so leading up to her hospitalization?"

"No, she was with me on Friday at our yoga class, and she was fine. We went out for drinks after, she got a little tipsy, but she was sober enough to drive. We watched a movie and went to bed." Tammy sat on the arm of the couch. "The next morning she didn't wake up. The rest of us have been fine. You don't think it's contagious, do you? We share the same room."

"No, probably not. If you feel fine, then I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"I feel better than fine." She smiled at him, watching as he scribbled notes into his notepad, "Hey, can I get you a drink? The girls were just about to make margaritas."

"No drinking on duty, but maybe we can work something out later," he said, giving her a wink. "Where do you two do yoga?"

"Last Friday we were at Get Bent. It's an indoor studio, but Saturdays we go to the beach and do yoga in our bikinis," she grinned.

"Hey, Tammy, shouldn't you get going?" one of the girls asked.

Tammy looked at the clock. "Yeah, I'm going to be late." She smiled at Dean as seductively as she could muster, "You should come with. You know... to ask more questions."

Sam knocked on the door that was left ajar to the sorority house before pushing it open. "Dean, we gotta go."

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, whispering through clenched teeth, ''_Now_? You couldn't wait a minute?"

Sam looked at him sternly, "Now."

Dean turned to Tammy and smiled, "You go ahead. I might just see you there." He waved at the girls on the couch, "See ya, ladies."

"Oh, wait..." Tammy dug around in her purse, but Dean and Sam left before she could stop them.

Sam held out his notepad for him, "Yoga studio, class is starting in ten minutes."

Dean could see the connection between the two girls, but his priorities were elsewhere at the moment. "We should come back here later, Sam. These girls are into me and there're three of them."

"Absolutely not."

"You're such a killjoy." Dean drove with Sam to the yoga studio and pulled up to the curb. "Pay the meter." He looked up at the colorful sign with a logo of a silhouette in a complicated pose, "Maybe we should sign up for a few classes?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, "You want to do yoga?"

"Who said anything about doing yoga?" he said, pushing the door open.

The yoga instructor looked them up and down, "You can't do yoga in those suits, gentlemen."

"Oh, we're actually just here to ask some questions," Sam replied.

"And observe," Dean said, taking a look behind him at the girls stretching.

Sam cleared his throat and raised his badge, then smiled cordially, "I'm Detective Watson, and this is Detective Gooch."

Dean's head whipped around. 'Oh, it's on,' he thought.

"Detectives? What kinds of questions would you have for me?"

"It's about one of your students," Dean answered.

"Two of your students," Sam corrected him.

"I can try to answer, but I probably won't be of much help," the instructor shook her head.

"What can you tell us about a Ms. Britney Daller?" Dean asked.

"Did she mention anything to you? Or behave oddly? Maybe she appeared more tired than usual?" Sam continued.

The instructor nodded, "Britney... she did seem to be tired, but I just figured it was school related."

"What about Janine Wiens?" Sam asked.

"I haven't seen her in a few days," the instructor shrugged. "But I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

"Is there _anything_ else you can tell us?" Sam prodded.

The instructor paused, shaking her head, "No, not really."

"She didn't mention anything about ghosts or the devil?" Dean asked casually, then smirked and shrugged when the instructor gave him a confused look.

"You know what?" Sam smiled, "Never mind that. We're going to have a look around, but we promise not to interfere with your class as much as we can."

The instructor was still puzzled, "That's fine, detective." She walked to the front of the group and started the class while Dean and Sam moved to stand aside.

"There's something about yoga pants that just... mmph," Dean murmured, watching the girls.

"Try to control yourself. We're cops , remember?"

"Cops are human too."

A slender girl with reddish brown hair tied up in a ponytail sat on her yoga mat watching them as she sipped her coffee, wondering what business they had in the studio. She half heartedly joined in the beginning pose, tempted to just sit and drink her coffee for the duration of the class.

Tammy walked in, "Sorry I'm late." She spotted Dean standing across the room and grinned, setting her purse and mat down against the wall before walking over. "Detective, you ran off so fast earlier, you forgot something."

Dean smiled charmingly, "I don't think I could forget someone as pretty as you."

Tammy winked, "I'll take it that's why you're here." She pulled out a pen and took his hand, writing her number down on it with her name and a heart. "Call me. I'll be done here in an hour." She looked at Sam, "Huh, you're kinda cute too. I could set you up. Double date?"

Sam's mouth twitched in a smile, "No thanks."

"Ooh, you like to play hard to get. There's a party tonight if you guys aren't too busy." She grinned at Dean, "Bring him along. He'll enjoy himself whether he wants to or not."

Dean chuckled, "Don't let his super serious demeanor fool you. He's a downright party animal."

The girl sipping her coffee gave Sam a look, shaking her head at the floozy and rolling her eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Tammy grinned and winked, "When you show up, bring a bottle of whipped cream."

The girl stifled a laugh at that remark and snorted, then looked away, bringing her coffee cup back up to her mouth as she pretended to find something interesting to look at on the opposite wall. Tammy glared over her shoulder at her.

The instructor could see Tammy was distracting her class and the officers on duty. "Tammy, why don't you join the rest of us in the warrior position? The detectives are here to work." The instructor looked at the girl sipping her coffee, "You too, Andy. You don't pay for this class to sit around and watch."

Tammy turned to Dean and whispered, "We'll talk later, and I'll practice my _downward dog_ with you." She took her mat at the front of the class.

Dean leaned over to Sam and whispered, "Totally not marriage material, but I think she knows that."

Sam whispered back, "Let's go. I don't think we're going to find anything here unless we scope the place out with the EMF reader after the class ends. We can come back later."

"Yeah, I don't know how we'd explain that one to the class. 'This is our special clue finder device.'"

Sam walked with Dean out to the car, "Well, that kickboxing class starts in about an hour. We could go check it out, but let's grab dinner first."

"Think we should try blending in on this one?" Dean asked. "Put the badges away and take a class?"

Sam shrugged, "Sure, why not?"

They went by a Subway on the way back to their motel. Sam grabbed a turkey club footlong and Dean chose a meatball marinara.

"Why do you always choose to eat the messiest foods?" Sam asked, unwrapping his sandwich at the table in their room.

"Messy food usually tastes better," Dean said, biting into the meatball sub.

"I just don't want your mess to find its way to my keyboard again."

"Relax. I won't touch your laptop til I wash my hands."

After eating, they changed into their casual clothes, then they drove out to the kickboxing class. "So, should we pretend we have no kickboxing experience?" Sam asked. "Or are you gonna show off to pick up girls?"

Dean smirked, "Let's fly this one under the radar." He walked inside and stepped up to the front desk where a tall, muscular middle-aged Hispanic man in a tight fitting T-shirt with the studio's logo on it stood. "Hi. My brother and I were looking to sign up for some classes." He added in a whisper, "He gets bullied a lot."

The guy looked back and forth between them, "Oh, well, the next class starts in 15 minutes." He handed them each a clipboard with some forms to fill out. "Your first three days are free of charge, just so you can decide if this is for you."

"Great, thanks," Sam smiled.

'Free, awesome,' Dean thought.

The man behind the desk continued, "The locker room is just straight in the back. We sell gym attire if you two need some."

Sam looked up, "T-shirt and jeans okay for the first day?"

"Not if you want to participate."

"Fair enough." Sam looked at Dean, "I guess we need to buy some gear then."

The man behind the desk motioned for them to follow him to the locker room, and Dean followed him while Sam stayed behind. Once they disappeared out of sight, he moved around the desk to leaf through the paperwork and look at memberships. He found a contract for one of the other girls in the hospital, Joyce. 'Two here and two at the yoga studio,' Sam thought. 'I wonder if either of them are University students.'

Andy, the girl from the yoga studio, came into the kickboxing class early, wearing a hoodie over her yoga attire and sipping a fresh cup of coffee. She recognized Sam and approached the desk, giving him a quizzical look. "Evening. Are you a new student?" She figured by his lack of suit that he was off duty.

"Uh, hi," Sam answered, putting the papers away and stepping out from behind the desk. "Yeah, I thought I'd try it out."

"Small world," she said, deciding not to jokingly ask if he was stalking her. "I'm Andy."

"Sam," he answered.

Dean came back out with a pair of shorts and handed them to Sam, "Get changed." He looked at Andy and smiled, "Hi."

She walked past him into the locker room without returning his greeting. The way she saw it, he was being a skeezball in the yoga studio before.

Sam grinned at Dean, who was obviously a little disappointed that didn't work.

"That doesn't usually happen," Dean said, checking his breath against his hand.

Sam smirked, "Maybe she just thinks you're a jerk."

Dean looked at him, "This class has sparring, Sammy. I held back that night that I went and got you."

Sam reminded him, "Thought you wanted to 'fly under the radar.'" He walked into the locker room to change out of his jeans.

While Sam changed, students started coming in and warming up. An older man dressed in a tank top and track pants waited at the front of the class. Despite the age his face showed, his body was fit and muscular. He spoke with the man from the front desk and nodded, looking over the new membership forms. When Sam came back out in his shorts, he stood beside Dean.

"Hello, everyone. I am Master Tong," he said, introducing himself to Sam and Dean. "We have a couple of new students joining us today," he motioned to Sam and Dean.

"Hey guys. Take it easy on us," Dean said, pointing at Sam, "him especially." Sam smiled and gave them an awkward wave.

Andy came back out of the locker room with her coffee and gloves. She looked over at Dean and Sam but looked away when Dean caught her glance.

"Let's do some warm ups and partner up," Master Tong instructed, then noticed Andy looking around. "Andy, Rebecca isn't here today. Maybe one of our two new students would like to be your partner."

Dean stepped forward before Sam could say anything, "Me, sir, I'm all fired up and ready to learn."

Andy sipped her coffee before setting it down, acting aloof, "Thanks."

Sam was not surprised Dean jumped at that opportunity, especially because he seemed to think he had to redeem himself.

A big black guy slapped Sam on the back, "I guess that makes you my partner, kid." He matched Sam in height but had probably twenty more pounds of muscle on him. He appeared young and fit but graying in his beard, giving away his age. "Don't worry, I won't hurtcha."

"Oh... okay, hi."

Master Tong handed Dean and Sam each a pair of gloves, "You can use these for now."

"We appreciate it," Dean said, taking the gloves.

"Thanks," Sam added.

"When you begin sparring, just remember this is not a real fight, and no hits to the head, okay?"

"Gotcha," Dean nodded, thinking, 'I wouldn't want to hurt that pretty face anyway.' "Good luck, buddy," Dean tapped Sam with his glove, then ditched him to stand near Andy.

"Stretches!" Master Tong instructed, demonstrating at the front of the class.

"Hey, I'm Dean."

"Andy," she answered, feeling jittery from all the caffeine she'd had in the last 24 hours. She took another sip before setting her cup down.

"Short for Andrea?" he asked.

"Andréa," she corrected the pronunciation, then looked over at Sam. "So, that's your partner?"

"That's Sammy. He's my little brother."

She raised her eyebrows, "What's that like, working together?"

"What?" Dean wasn't sure how she knew, then he remembered she thought they were detectives. "I thought you looked familiar. You were in that yoga class. You snorted."

She grinned, "Ha, you heard that, huh?"

"I could practically feel you rolling your eyes over there."

"It was a little ridiculous," she said in her defense.

"Sorority girls," Dean smiled and shrugged, "What can you do?" He hopped in place and shook out his arms before leaning forward and holding the backs of his calves as he stretched, copying the instructor. They followed the instructor's lead and went upright, taking a wide stance. "Let's help each other stretch."

"I was telling Sam it's a small world running into you two here after you were at my yoga class. What were you guys doing there, aside from gawking?" she asked.

"Official police detective stuff," he smirked. "And hey, I wasn't gawking, I was observing."

"Right," she nodded, unconvinced.

"We were working a case."

"Super top secret cop stuff?"

"Yeah, but you never know, I might have to grill you about it." He smiled, but he knew he really would have to. "So, you do both yoga and kickboxing."  
"Yeah, yoga is a great for strength and core training, but kickboxing is great cardio and endurance," she said, stretching with him. "It's a good work out, I can learn how to properly kick some ass, and it's just a nice routine with nice people." She admitted, "Mostly I like feeling a little badass though. Like if someone broke into my apartment, I could defend myself, then hog tie 'em and call the cops." She smirked, "Or if some jerk doesn't respect me on a date, I can break his face." She realized what she just said, "I mean, uh..." She spoke monotonously as if speaking a vow, "I would never assault somebody."

"So, not only are you great looking, but you kick ass too," Dean said, reaching across his body and bringing his arm up across his opposite elbow, stretching his arms and back as she lay back, pulling her knees to her chest to stretch. He enjoyed the view.

"Thank you. But just so you know, that line's not gonna work on me."

"Then I guess I've got my work cut out for me, don't I?" he smirked and sat down on the mat with his legs spread, then reached out to hold each ankle.

"So, are you and your brother taking this class together as an excuse to beat the crap out of one another?"

"We don't need an excuse to beat the crap out of each other."

"Ha! I'm an only child, I only know what I've seen on TV about sibling rivalry."

"We could definitely have our own TV show. So, your partner is missing today? That's gotta be a real bummer."

"Oh, it's not so bad..." she paused and admitted, "I almost skipped today myself, but I don't let myself skip any classes unless I'm really sick. I'm just a little tired. Hence the 8 o'clock caffeine fix."

"Yeah, I noticed the shaky hands. Why so tired? You don't strike me as the stay up all night partying type."

She chuckled, "Oh, I'm not. I'm the stay in with a book and a bubble bath type." She wondered how lame that was and added, "Not that I'm a homebody. I work from home, but that's why I take all these classes, to get out. But I haven't slept well the last few days. I've been trying to adopt the polyphasic sleep pattern to see if it helps. A thirty minute nap every four hours." She shook her head, "It sucks."

"Just the last few days? What's disturbing your sleep?"

"Um..." she hesitated, "Bad dreams. Might be night terrors actually, which is weird because I've never had them before."

Master Tong shouted, "Andy, Bubba, teach your new partners some drills!"

Dean stood up, "So, I guess this is the part where you teach the poor newbie how to throw some face breaking punches."

"I get the feeling you're not that new to throwing punches."

Dean shrugged, "We get some basic training but nothing as fancy as this. Most of the time a flash of my gun and badge works fine anyway."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Andy said, glancing over at Sam and Bubba, then she burst out laughing. Bubba threw a kick against the shield Sam held up that sent him stumbling back. She covered her mouth. "I shouldn't have laughed. Sorry!" Sam heard her and looked over, giving an awkward smile, but he saw Dean with his shit eating grin and hoped he wouldn't show off.

Dean didn't want to make her laugh like that himself, so he said, "Why don't you show me some basic stuff. You wouldn't want to go embarrassing the newbie or anything."

"Okay, first you need to establish your stance." She took her muay thai stance. Dean copied her, purposefully standing awkward. "If you stand like that, you'll trip over your own feet. Space your feet apart wider and slide your left foot forward a little... There! You got it. Now raise your hands up like this." She raised her hands up so her right hand was at her cheek and her left was further out.

Dean followed her instructions. "Okay, now show me how you whoop ass."

"Basics first! They're the most important," she said and showed him how to throw jabs, hooks, straights, a right cross, and other basic moves. She held up her gloved hands, "I'll call out a punch and you'll hit whichever hand is raised, okay?"

"Sounds easy enough," he said, hitting her hands with soft punches as she called them out.

Andy teased, "Aw, is that all you got? Kitten paws hit harder than that."

Dean grinned and put a little more power into his right straight when she called it out.

"Something tells me you're holding back," she said, feeling the force of that hit through her arm.

"Just a little." He was holding back a lot.

"I'll show you some kicks, then I'll put on the training gear so you don't have to hold back," she said. She showed him how to throw some basic kicks to the legs and body. "Practice those while I go put on the padded gear."

Dean did as he was told, throwing punch combos with kicks as he waited for her. Master Tong noticed Dean using proper technique and timing with his combinations but remained quiet. He smacked Bubba on the arm when he threw a high roundhouse at Sam.

When Andy returned, she wore punching mitts and padding around her midsection. "Okay! Show me what you've got."

"If you say so," Dean said, giving her a look that said, 'You asked for it.' He assumed his stance and gave her a hard right hook to the punching mitt that almost spun her around.

"Whoa!" She steadied herself, "I wasn't ready for that." She motioned for him to continue with the mitts, "Throw some kicks in there too." She tapped her body protection with the focus mitt.

Dean began throwing hard, rapid combinations of punches, throwing in a hard body kick that sent Andy falling back.

"Oof!" she sat up on her elbows and eyed him.

Dean looked amused and tried to hide it when she looked at him, "Sorry, guess I don't know my own strength." He hooked his arms under hers and lifted her up.

"Suuure," she said, "Remember, you're next."

"Remember, no hits to the ol' noggin," he said, tapping his head with his glove. "I don't want a concussion my first day here."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, taking off the protective gear. "Let's change up." She helped him put on the body guard then slipped her gloves on.

"So, do I call out punches or do I just stand here and let you go to town on me?"

She smiled, "Just hold your hands up and I'll do combinations freely." She started throwing hard punches and kicked him in the side.

Dean didn't budge, "Ooh, I think I almost felt something."

Andy put more hip into her next kick and caused his body to move a little bit. "How about that?"

"Now who's the one holding back?"

She reached up and gripped him behind his head at the base, pulling him forward as she began kneeing his midsection. Dean was taken by surprise, "Whoa, whoa, whoa... you didn't cover this in the basic techniques."

She grinned and jumped, kneeing him in the chest as she let him go, "I know."

Dean was impressed, "What do you call whatever the hell you just did to me?"

"That's called the 'plum clinch.' You can use it to control someone and tire them out as they fight against you pulling on their neck."

Sam had watched and looked at Bubba, "Please don't do that to me." Bubba gave him a hearty chuckle.

Andy felt a yawn coming on and made a face as she tried to hold it back. She saw the instructor look away and turned her head to let out a half yawn, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.

Master Tong appeared behind her, "SIT UPS!"

Dean jumped, startled, and waited until the instructor walked away before asking, "Is Master Tong also a ninja?"

"Damn." She sat down on the floor and wiggled her toes at him, hinting for him to hold her feet. "You'd think so. I didn't think he'd catch me. He has a 'no yawning' policy." She started her sit ups when he held her feet for her.

"He's a regular Mr. Miyagi," Dean smirked, then looked up at the clock. "So, what are you doing after class?"

Andy was a little surprised by the question. "Nothing, why?"

"Can I take you out for a drink?" He gave her a charming smile for good measure.

Andy raised an eyebrow, "What about Tammy and her can of whipped cream?"

"You mean her bottle of whipped cream," he grinned like he just told an inside joke. She got it and smiled back. "I was just having fun flirting with her, I wasn't really interested."

Andy mulled it over, "Is her number still on your hand?"

Dean took off his mitts and showed her his hands, ink free. "I hate when a girl writes on your hand like that."

"Alright. How about dinner instead?" she suggested.

Dean nodded, "This workout has me in the mood for a steak. How does that sound to you?"

"I love steak."

"Do you know any good places?" he asked, remembering he was not familiar with the area.

"Sure. There's a place nearby-"

"Good job tonight, class!" Master Tong announced. "See you next week!"

"I'll be right back." Andy stood up and returned to the locker room to retrieve her things and write down her number and address.

"Good job, newbie," Bubba patted Sam's glove. "See you in a couple days."

"Thanks," Sam smiled back and walked over to Dean. "Did you get any information?"

"We're going to dinner," he grinned. "Don't worry, I'm working the case." He gave him a light hit on one of the areas Bubba had hit him hard.

Sam flinched a little, "She's giving you the time of day? I thought she didn't like you."

"That was before she talked to me. What's that saying? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't really apply to the situation."

"Shut up."

"Well, Bubba didn't know anything about the comas. But Andy's partner is in a coma, and she's the link between all of them. She could be a witch. So be careful."

"Andy mentioned she was feeling tired and losing sleep herself. So, it's possible, but it seems like she's a target too. I'll find out if she attends the university. Ask about the other two."

"Right, what was her name... Joyce, I think." Sam walked over to Master Tong to question him.

Andy walked back out with her things and handed Dean a slip of paper. "Pick me up in half an hour?"

Dean looked at the paper and smiled at her, "Half an hour and not a minute late."

Andy looked over at Sam, "Nice meeting you, Sam."

"You too," he smiled as she left and walked back over to Dean. "Neither Rebecca or Joyce attend university."

"I'm gonna take a shower before I go. Maybe you can do some research on that laptop of yours while I'm out."

"Fine. But I'm VOD'ing a movie."

"Just don't VOD Naughty Nuns."

Bubba gave him a look like he was pretending not to have heard that.

"He was joking," Sam started.

"I'm not judgin'."

"Looks like you've got yourself a new best bud there," Dean grinned.

They returned their borrowed gear and changed in the locker room. Master Tong stopped them on their way out. "You boys have some natural talent. We have some work to do on your technique though," he nodded to Sam.

Dean shrugged, "We watch a lot of action movies."

Sam sighed, "I'll do better next class."

"That's the right attitude to have!"

They returned to the motel, and Dean dropped his keys on the table before taking off his jacket. "Try to see if there have been any other events in this city's history similar to this."

"Got it," Sam said, kicking off his shoes before settling into the bed by the window and setting his laptop on his lap while Dean went into the bathroom to shower.

After cleaning off, Dean styled his hair, put on a fresh shirt, and slipped into his jacket. "Remember. Behave yourself," Dean said, giving Sam a mock-dad look. He grinned when Sam stared at him, "Lighten up, Sammy. Enjoy your movie."

Sam handed him a slip of paper with directions he'd looked up via the power of google maps. "Here."

"Thanks." He followed the directions to Andy's apartment complex and parked in a spot up front, then, he took the stairs up to the second floor and knocked on her door.

Andy finished applying her mascara and jogged barefoot to the door to answer it. She wore skinny jeans, an ivory silk V neck blouse, and light jewelry. She opened the door to let him in, "Sorry, I just need a couple more minutes, and I'll be ready." She returned to the bathroom to apply her lipstick and put on her earrings.

"Nice place," Dean commented, closing the door behind him. The floors were made of wood laminate, and the walls were a neutral taupe. The small kitchen was on his immediate right with a countertop separating it from the living room. Her dining table was beside the counter with four matching chairs. Something told him she didn't make much use of it though. Further into the small living room was a green fabric couch against the wall with a coffee table was placed in front of it. The coffee table looked like something she'd picked up from Ikea, and it still had a half full glass of water and a bag of gummi bears on it. Across from the couch was a small entertainment system with a shelving unit that housed a DVD player, a super Nintendo, and a 32" flatscreen TV. Beside it, nailed to the wall was a shelf that held a small collection of DVDs and games. Dean stopped and stared at the small cage sitting atop a stool beside the shelf of movies. "You have a pet rat?"

She came out of the bathroom and answered on her way into the bedroom, "Oh, yeah, that's Justin. I hope you don't think that's too weird. He's really sweet and smart."

"Nahhh," Dean answered dismissively with an assuring smile. 'Gross,' he thought. "You gave it a human name? Shouldn't he at least have a name like... Splinter?"

"I named him after my favorite character in Secret of NIMH, but Splinter was my second choice," she answered, putting on her heels.

On the other side of the entertainment system was a bookshelf with an extensive collection of books, some of which were lying atop and across each other, as if she'd tried to fit the books into the shelf, even though she'd run out of space a long time ago.

"So, what do you do for a living?" he asked.

She came into the living room and saw him checking out her book collection. "You're looking at it."

He glanced at her and back at the bookshelf. There was a row of books in the middle with her name on them. He hadn't known her last name, so he pulled one out. "You're an author?"

"Yeah, I write a lot of fantasy horror. Werewolves, vampires, gargoyles."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at the cover, "A werewolf book. Cool." 'They're probably nothing like the werewolves I've encountered,' he thought.

"They're a lot of fun to write. It's a lot easier to take liberties with vampire lore than it is police procedures. I'm actually working on a ghost story right now. But if that's not your cup of tea, I did write a murder mystery about a detective helping a girl hunt down her sister's murderer. I did a lot of research to try to get the facts straight, but I had trouble pinning down a detective to interview, so I did have to make a lot of it up. Too bad I didn't meet you sooner so I could grill you on procedures and how not to make it as inaccurate as an episode of CSI." She smiled, "I think I did alright though."

Dean put the book back, "I'm sure you did fine."

"I'd love to make it onto the New York Times' best sellers list. It'd be great to cash in on a movie deal and travel more."

"I also happen to be a big reader of things supernatural. Maybe you can pick my brain about it tonight over dinner."

She grinned, "Alright, let me grab my jacket." She disappeared into her bedroom and came back out a moment later with her jacket and her purse. "Ready."

"I'd like to read one of your books sometime," he said, replacing it on the cluttered bookshelf.

She smiled, "I'll give you one, but let me think up something nice to write inside the dust cover first."

"Deal." He led her down to his car after she locked up and opened her door for her before going around to the driver's side. "Okay, trusty navigator, which way to our destination?"

She gave him directions as he drove but couldn't hold in a yawn. She looked at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry for yawning. I swear I'm not bored or anything."

"No offense taken," he smiled. "But if you go face first into your food, it might hurt my feelings."

"That would be horrible. I'd be the worst date ever."

"You'd have to be the date from Hell to top a couple of my absolute worst," he said, parking the car in the small lot beside the restaurant. He walked around the side of the car and opened the door for her.

Andy wasn't surprised he'd been on a lot of dates, especially if he frequented bars with badge bunnies. "I'm not that bad. At least, I don't think so. The last few dates I've been on were just awkward and weird, but I don't think it was because of me," she chuckled, hoping that was the truth. "I tried the online dating thing for a month and stopped. Felt too unnatural and kind of creepy meeting people from the internet that were meeting me for the sole purpose of dating me or getting into my pants." She heard herself talking and wondered how desperate she sounded and decided it best to keep her mouth shut.

"There are a lot of weirdoes out there. I doubt it was you. You seem like a great girl. Believe me, I can spot crazy from a mile away." They sat at a booth in the corner, dimly lit by a tiffany ceiling lamp above their table, and placed their orders with the plump waitress that scuttled back and forth between tables. "So, any other hobbies, besides yoga and kickboxing? Maybe sewing or stamp collecting," he smiled and added sarcastically, "or maybe witchcraft?"

Andy raised an eyebrow, "I must have given you a really weird vibe for that one."

"Stamp collecting is perfectly normal."

Andy grinned, "I like to dabble in a little bit of everything. I'm a little scared of heights, but I like rock climbing indoors. I hike occasionally during the summer." She took a sip of her water, "What about you?"

"Me?" he looked thoughtful for a moment. "My brother and I go hunting."

"For what? Deer?"

"Not exactly," he said and changed the subject, "So, about that case my brother and I are working on… We're investigating the recent illness that put several people into comas. Know anything about it?"

"I read an article about it. They don't know what caused it. That's all I really know. Why?"

"From all the people we've interviewed, we've noticed a common theme being that each victim seemed to be a lot more tired than usual."

"Well... they did fall into comas," she replied, giving him a lopsided grin.

Dean cracked a smile, "Leading up to their comas."

"I'm sorry, that was in bad taste," she said, clearing her throat. She'd never been on a date with a cop, but she figured he must be straight laced and probably thought her joke made her a terrible person. "Do you think I might be at risk because of the trouble I've had sleeping?"

"Maybe. Why don't you tell me about when you first started having trouble sleeping? Was there any change in your normal daily routine?"

"No, not really. It just hit me. I, uh..." she hesitated. "I'd rather not chase you away on the first date. You might take back your judgment on me not being crazy." She smiled sheepishly, thinking she was digging herself into a hole. "Okay, I realize I can't tell you I'm secretly crazy and get away with it. But I feel like I'm losing my mind a little with the lack of sleep. If you were a paranormal investigator, then it'd be a different story."

Dean raised his eyebrows and smirked, "Funny you should say that." He took a deep breath, hoping she wouldn't splash her drink in his face and walk away. "I'm not really a police officer. Neither is my brother."

She corrected him, "Detective."

He paused and grinned with a conceding nod, "Detective. _I _didn't want to chase _you_ away by telling you what I really did."

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "So, what, you're a con artist? Why are you coming clean with me now?"

"I'm a ghostbuster. You know," he hummed the Ghostbusters theme song. "Who ya gonna call?"

She grinned, thinking, 'Cute.' "Oh yeah? You have a proton pack?"

"No, but I do have a big gun."

She raised her eyebrows. 'Euphemism?' she thought.

Dean smirked, "We do investigate certain special cases like those involving ghosts and spirits and the occasional werewolf. So, maybe you can tell me what's disturbing your sleep and maybe I'll be able to help you out."

She was still suspicious. The whole conversation was beginning to feel like an elaborate prank. "Are you pulling my leg? Because this sounds too good to be true. You could be making this up like you made up being a detective-police-officer." She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, studying him.

"Not pulling your leg," he raised his right hand. "I swear. It's what we do. Scout's honor."

The waitress brought their dinner and set their plates down with a wide smile and an energetic "Enjoy!" before tending to another table.

Andy was too interested to look at her food just yet. "But, a gun? What kind of gun? I mean, ghosts... bullets... doesn't make sense to me."

"Well, normal bullets won't work, but a shotgun with rock salt shells does a good job of getting rid of a spirit, at least for a minute or two."

"Rock salt!" She sat back in her chair. "Wait… so table salt should work, right? I tried that, and it didn't work. I just ended up with a mess on the floor. I mean, salt on a laminated floor... pain in the ass. I also tried burning white sage, and it just made my apartment stink. I even got a complaint from the neighbor because it wafted into the hallway." She looked embarrassed to admit that and waited for him to pull the rug out from under her. She would kick him under the table if he did.

"I hope you didn't just dump it all over the floor," he grinned. "And sage doesn't work. Do your neighbors a favor and never do that again."

"I circled my bed with it, but I sleep with the window open and all it took was a small breeze to push it around. I also consulted the bible and a priest with a rosary. I don't belong to a church, so I just walked into one and said, 'Give me something holy to protect myself from bad things,'" she said in a tone of self mockery. She sighed, relieved to be talking to a professional if he really was one. She was still ready to punch him in the face, no matter how attractive it was, if he suddenly started laughing at her.

"I'm sure I can do a better job helping you than that priest. Why don't you tell me more about this ghost or spirit? Is it flying around your room, eating everything and getting slime everywhere?"

"Har, har. No. Well, I don't know if it's the same thing that happened to the others, and I'm... really embarrassed. It's just a relief to be able to talk to you about it. I tried asking someone if they believed in ghosts, and they were like, 'Yeah,' but when I said I thought I was haunted, they told me it was all my imagination."

"It's not your imagination."

She felt a wave of relief to hear that and smiled. "I meditate a lot. It helps me focus when I need to work. And I'm pretty aware of my energy and the energies around me. I believe there are spirits all over the place, coming and going, and I'd never felt like my house was haunted before. But the last week has been Hell, and I feel like something's latched onto me." She looked down at her steak, remembering the presence of food in front of her. She cut into it and forced herself to eat instead of talk, still enthralled by the discussion.

"And your place doesn't have anything dark in its history, right? No murders or anything?"

"Not that I know of. But I've lived there for a year and a half now, and it's just happened recently. And if it is connected with the others, they don't live in the same building as me." She took another bite of her steak then a drink of water. "The reason I can't sleep is because I'm afraid to. I had an experience that... scared the hell out of me. And when I did wake up from it, I had the worst sleep inertia I've ever had. I almost didn't want to get out of bed. I'm sure I could have stayed in bed for sixteen hours straight or... not have gotten up at all. But I forced myself to get up. I've been reluctant to sleep at all at night since, and I'm lucky to get a nap in during the day. I think the last time I reached my REM cycle was over thirty hours ago."

"It's probably not a ghost, but I'll look into the apartment's history anyway," he said. It sounded like something was sucking her life force, but it wasn't a shtriga. He reached across the table and gave her trembling hand a reassuring squeeze. "My brother and I will get rid of whatever is doing this. I promise."

Her eyes wandered to his hand, warm over hers. "Um, there's something else." She glanced around the room. Even though the table beside them was vacant, she wasn't comfortable talking about it in public. "I'd rather not talk about it here though. Maybe out in the parking lot after we eat."

"Sure." He continued eating and thinking about what could possibly be behind the comatose girls in the hospital. He decided to try and lighten the mood, "So, have you ever unleashed the beast like you did on me against Bubba?"

She grinned, "Hey, I went easy on you." She came to another realization and gave him an accusatory look, "And you're not new to kickboxing, are you!"

He laughed, "Definitely not new, but you impressed the hell out of me with your moves."

"Good…" she paused, pushing her peas around her plate with her fork. "Then, this dinner date wasn't all just a ruse to get information out of me, was it?" She wondered if he'd tell her the truth even if it was and glanced up at him.

"No, it wasn't," he smiled at her, reading her expression. "This is a real date, and I would have asked you out even if I really was a police officer-detective."

She smiled and placed her napkin on the table after finishing her meal and sipped her water.

"Want dessert?" Dean offered, "Or do you want to get out of here?"

"I'm ready to go." Dean signaled the waitress, and she brought the check. "So, what do you charge for your spirit removal services?" Andy asked.

"Nothing," Dean answered, handing the waitress one of his fake credit cards with the bill. "We save people. That's enough."

"That's a relief because writers make crappy money until they hit it big," she said, standing up and following him out to the car. "I could give you a Starbucks gift card."

He chuckled, "Don't worry about it. I won't dip into your coffee money." He opened the car door for her and walked around to sit in the driver's seat. He rested his arm across the back of the seat and looked at her, "So, what was it you didn't want anyone to overhear?"

She looked at her hands in her lap, "I don't think it's just in my apartment. I've felt it outside my apartment too. It's like it wants to touch me when I relax, when I'm vulnerable. If I'm on the brink of sleep sometimes, I feel it touch me."

"Can you feel it right now?" he asked.

"No, but I've also been trying to shut it out. I don't know if it would come into your car, if it has a mind of its own, anyway. I don't know, do they think or do they just act?"

"It depends on what we're dealing with. Some things know what they're doing, others are just replaying the same events of their death over and over."

"Yesterday I was in Starbucks on my laptop because I needed to get out of the apartment. I thought being in public, I'd be safe. I started dozing off at a table and felt it. It startled me, and I jumped up and got the hell out of there."

"What about that night terror you mentioned?"

"Well…" she hesitated and couldn't look him in the eye as she told him about it, so she looked out the windshield, "I was in bed a few days ago when it started. I was having a very pleasant dream. I could feel very vividly in it." She scratched above her nose, smiling embarrassedly, "It was, you know, a... an erotic dream. Which isn't actually all that unusual for me because of my writing. But this was different. I mean, it was mind blowing good. But I woke up before it was over, and I was paralyzed." She looked at him, "I felt heavy, like I was sinking into the bed, and I couldn't move. I caught a glimpse of something on top of me, but then I couldn't see or hear anything in the room. But I felt like I wasn't alone. What I felt in my dream wasn't me, and I kept feeling it while I was half awake, but I couldn't pull myself out of it." She averted her gaze and glanced behind Dean at the ashtray in the armrest, noticing the green army man shoved inside. "It was like an invisible man was touching me. It felt good at first, but I didn't want it, and I couldn't stop it. I was terrifying. I eventually fell back asleep, but it was hard to wake up. And now whenever I'm about to fall asleep, I feel his hands on me." She added angrily, daring to look at him now, "This ghost is a pervert to the max."

"That would explain why whatever this is is targeting only young women. This thing sounds like an incubus."

"So, I'm not crazy?"

"You're not crazy in the least. I don't think this is a demon but some kind of spirit. I'll have to consult with Sam about this," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I've dealt with pretty much everything you can imagine at this point."

"You've gotta keep me involved. Please. I won't get in the way, I promise!"

"You'd make a much better looking sidekick than Sammy, that's for sure," he grinned.

"Sidekick, huh? So, what's the next step? I'm eager to get my ghostbusting on."

"First we need a goat and a pentagram," he said, turning the key in the ignition and putting the impala in reverse.

She stared at him for a moment, "You're joking."

"Haha, first I take you home, and then, tomorrow Sam and I will have a look around your apartment and do some research. You can tag along and help out during that."

"And help vanquish evil, right? I can use a shot gun. I'm a pretty good shot."

He raised an eyebrow, "You have firearms training?"

"From my dad. We used to go skeet shooting all the time. And to the firing range with pistols. I still have my dad's rifle in my closet."

Dean joked, "I'm getting pretty close to marrying you." When he pulled up to her apartment building, he asked, "Mind if I come in?"

"Sure. Come on up," she said, stepping out of the car. He opened the trunk and grabbed his duffle bag, opening the false bottom to put the shot gun inside. Andy caught a glimpse of the hidden arsenal, "So, I guess when you said you go hunting with your brother, you didn't mean deer."

He smirked, shutting the trunk, "Nope." He followed her up to her apartment and waited for her to unlock the door. "If only I were being invited up to your place after a date under different circumstances."

She smiled, "It wouldn't be on the first date if I did."

He shrugged, "I can respect that." He entered and set his duffle bag down on the coffee table beside her glass of water, then proceeded to look around her apartment, checking the windowsills for traces of sulfur.

"What are you looking for?"

"Sulfur and any other signs of demons or ghosts." He opened his bag and pulled out his canister of salt to make lines at each entrance into her apartment. "Where's your bedroom?"

Andy showed him to her bedroom and looked shame faced at the salt on the floor. "Uh… yeah, you can see the mess I made. I swept most of it up." There was still some table salt smeared around her bed on the wooden laminated floor.

Dean took a look around. Upon entering her room, there was a writing desk on the right against the wall with a closed laptop sitting atop it beside a notebook. On the wall above the desk was a movie poster for _An American Werewolf in Paris_, and to the left of the desk were double doors leading into the walk-in closet. The headboard of her twin size bed was pushed up against the adjacent wall in the center of the room, directly below a window, and had a built in shelving unit where she kept her alarm clock within easy reach to hit Snooze. To the left of her bed was an armchair with an old stuffed elephant sitting on it.

"I didn't think to just sprinkle it around the windows and doors." She sighed, "In my defense... lack of sleep."

"I'm not judging. I'm surprised you tried it at all, really. Most people wouldn't consider it," he said and moved her bed away from the wall into the center of the room. He checked her window to make sure it was securely shut. "I'm going to add another salt circle around your bed, and hopefully it can ward off this entity for the night." He poured the rock salt out forming an unbroken circle around her bed. "It'd take a lot more than a small breeze to break this."

"You are really handy to have around, you know that?" She smiled at him, "Sounds like I want you to reach the high shelves and open the pickle jar when I say it like that. But I feel like I could actually rest easy tonight." She paused, "Well, I probably won't, now that I get anxiety from anticipation of something happening, but I'm counting on a good night's rest after we kill this thing." She followed him into the living room as he put his canister back in the duffle bag.

He glanced up at her, "I could stay the night if you want me to."

"Really?" She hadn't realized how alone she was until he offered. After her first night terror, she realized she didn't have anyone she could call to ask for help. She never saw her friends from her classes outside the studio, and she wasn't close enough to her father to call him for comfort. She chewed her lip, "I've had some weird first dates, but this takes the cake. You wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor or in a chair, would you?"  
"I just need to tell my brother I'm spending the night," he smiled and flipped his phone open as he reached into the bag for his shotgun.

"I'm going to wash my face and brush my teeth," Andy said, backing up down the hallway, "I have an extra toothbrush if you want it. I'll be right back." She disappeared into her bedroom for a change of clothes, then went into the bathroom to prepare for bed.  
"Hey, Sammy," Dean greeted him when he picked up, "I'm going to spend the night at her place."  
"I figured. I'm guessing that means she was a dead end on leads."  
"Actually, she might be our biggest lead. I need you to look up info on incubi." He loaded two salt-filled shells into the chamber.  
"Really?" He rolled out of bed and grabbed their dad's journal. "That's one we haven't run into yet." He flipped through the pages, "Here we go. There's a lot of info here. Dad apparently had a run in  
with a succubus. This says it's a malicious entity that drains sexual energy, and it's empowered by it. So the more busy it gets, the stronger it becomes." He skimmed the page, "There's a lot of lore saying  
they're demons, but that might not be the case. The incubus preys on women in their sleep, takes the form of whatever they desire. This says it can be summoned by witchcraft."  
"So, it might be a demon, but it might not? Great."  
"I don't think it's a demon. I remember studying this myself, and they were purported to be demons by the church because of their sexual nature."  
"Alright, but a witch? This might have just reached new levels of pain in the ass."  
"Yeah, and there's a binding spell for it. So there'd have to be a cursed item somewhere serving as its vessel."  
Andy came out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of pink pajama shorts and a tank top. She opened the cabinet in the hallway and carried a comforter and spare pillow into the bedroom.

Sam continued, "If this thing is taking down multiple people, it could be more complicated than that. Maybe it's not summoned by witchcraft, maybe it's just roaming and feeding on girls around town.  
If Andy's one of its targets, you might be able to catch it and kill it. If that doesn't work, then I guess we'd have to find whatever the cursed item is and burn it."  
"Catch it and kill it how? Silver bullet? Iron?"

"I'm not sure."

Dean glanced at Andy as she walked past him into the kitchen. "We'll talk about it first thing tomorrow after we pick you up. See ya." Dean hung up and carried his duffle bag and shotgun with him into the bedroom."I'll just sleep in the chair," he called out over his shoulder. He picked up the blanket and pillow from the chair and set them on the ground beside it, then plucked up the stuffed elephant that was sitting beneath them. He smirked and looked at her as she set down two glasses of water on top of her headboard. "Cute."  
"In case you get thirsty," she said, looking at him. Her eyes moved down to the stuffed elephant in his hand. She grinned, "You can snuggle him if you want to."  
"Heh, no thanks," he smirked and handed it to her. "I'll take you up on that toothbrush."

"I left it by the sink."

He walked down the hall to the bathroom. Andy hopped into bed, dropping Mr. Heffalump on the ground, opposite the side of his chair, as she slipped under the covers. The whole day was a blur because of how tired she was, but she was glad she'd misjudged Dean. As it turned out, he wasn't a dick after all. For the first time since that night she was held down by the incubus, she felt safe going to sleep. Ordinarily, she wouldn't feel safe with a stranger in her room, and she wondered if it was the sleep deprivation interfering with her common sense, but she trusted him. She sat up when he walked back in and watched as he removed his jacket, setting it on the back of the chair. He walked over and picked up a glass of water off her headboard.

"Dean."

"What?"

She pulled him down by the lapel of his long sleeve shirt and kissed him, her lips soft against his. Her heart was sent into a frenzy when he reciprocated, and she broke the kiss so it wouldn't last too long, even though she wanted it to. "Thank you."

He was pleasantly taken by surprise and smiled, "You're welcome."

She licked her lips as she lay back in bed and slipped back under the covers, "Can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"You won't lie to me anymore?" Even though she felt safe with him, she still wasn't sure how much she could trust him. She was almost sure he would have let her believe he was a police officer-detective indefinitely. She wanted the truth.

Lying was something Dean was in the habit of doing casually in his line of work. It was part of how he survived, but he couldn't think of any reason to lie to her now. "Yeah. You know what I do."

Andy felt her eyelids growing heavy and let them close. "I'm going to sleep so well tonight. This is the best slumber party ever, even without a pillow fight." She yawned, "Well, except instead of telling ghost stories, we're living one. I guess that kinda sucks..." Her voice trailed off as she fell asleep.

Dean thought, 'I'm probably not going to be able to sleep after that.' He listened to her breathing become deep and slow, and he picked up his shotgun from his duffle bag, then sat in the chair, holding it across his lap. He thought about their kiss and how to deal with the incubus, but after a while his thoughts became derailed by the uncertainty of his father's whereabouts and whether he was okay, and as he became more tired, his thoughts were punctuated by guitar riffs and choruses from the songs he'd been listening to in the car earlier. After an hour, he nodded off and didn't notice the lamp atop the headboard flicker.

Andy's mind made a seamless transition into a dream state remarkably similar to the real world. In her dream, Dean leaned over her bed and kissed her, slipping his hand beneath the covers as he sought her bare skin. She didn't resist, instead welcoming his advances, and he became more passionate in turn.

In reality, Andy was lying on her side, facing Dean as he slept in the armchair against the wall. But as her dream progressed, she turned onto her back, with one arm behind her pillow and the other resting on her stomach. The sheets pressed into the bed around her as the incubus spread her legs.

Dean opened his eyes at the sound of Andy's soft moan. The incubus was a hazy form on top of her, similar to the black smoke of a demon, except it wasn't a cloud - it was in the form of a man. He became instantly alert and raised his shotgun. The incubus turned its head to look at him with his own face, and for a brief confused moment, Dean lowered the shotgun to study it. Then, he smirked, "Well, aren't you a handsome devil." He raised the shotgun and blasted the entity into a vanishing mist.

The sound startled Andy awake, and she jolted upright with a gasp. She was quiet for a moment, then realized what had happened. "That... fucker!"

Dean circled the bed, checking the salt circle and noticed part of the line had been disturbed by her plush elephant on the floor. He inwardly cursed himself for not double checking it. "He's gone. For now." He looked at her with concern, but then a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "So... what were you dreaming about?"

He was within reach, so she lightly punched him on the arm, "That's irrelevant!" She narrowed her eyes at him, "Could you see it?" Dean grinned, and she knew the answer. She could feel her face change color but hoped the lamp light was too dim for him to see how red her cheeks had turned.

"Rock salt works, but the protective circle must have been disturbed when you got into bed."

She looked over the side of the bed at Mr. Heffalump and sighed, "Damn me. Figures I would fudge it."

He fixed the line and made sure no other spots were disturbed. "All fixed. That should keep that thing away for sure." He walked back over to the chair and sat down in it with the shotgun across his lap. Andy turned to lie on her side, facing him. She watched him in silence, and he returned her gaze. After a long moment of silence, he said, "Try to sleep. He won't bother you. I promise."

Andy was still sleep deprived but felt more awake than she had all day. She hesitated, "I know it's a small bed, but..." She scooted over and patted the mattress. "If you want to." She added with a cheesy smirk and a roll of her eyes, "And I don't mean 'make my dreams come true.'"

Dean didn't debate keeping it professional. He stood up and set the shotgun down to lie across the headboard, and reminded her with a smile as he sat on the edge of the bed, "Hey, you made the first move on me." He lay back, placing his hands behind his head.

Andy looked down at his feet. "You wear your shoes to sleep?" She sat up and leaned forward, untying his boots. He looked down and pushed on the heel of each shoe with the opposite foot to help her take them off. She tossed them on the floor and checked the rock salt to make sure she didn't mess it up again. She lay back down on her side and put her arm around him, resting her head on his chest and her bare toes against his sock covered foot. She wiggled her toe against it as she listened to the drum of his heart beat.

Dean slipped his arm around her and smirked as she played footsie with him. Andy felt butterflies in her stomach when his arm wrapped around the curve of her waist, his fingers pressed against her hip. She admitted quietly, looking up at him, "I _really _want to kiss you again."

He wasn't going to deny her. He slowly turned his body into her, rolling her onto her back as he leaned forward, giving her a soft, lingering kiss. She kept her hands on his sides as she bent her knee to rest it against the outside of his thigh. She kissed him back more passionately than she'd allowed herself to before. She moved her hands down and slipped them under his shirt to feel his skin hot against her hands.

Dean broke the kiss to pull his shirt and amulet up over his head and quickly returned her kiss more passionately and deeply. He slid his leg in between hers, pressing it against her inner thigh, as he slipped his tongue between her lips. Resting his weight on his elbow, he gave her hip a firm squeeze with his free hand, evoking a soft gasp.

Her dream had aroused her, but his touch was electric, sending tendrils of tingling sensations down her spine and through her belly. She was a little unnerved by the intensity of her desire to have him, but she wasn't going to resist it. She wrapped her leg behind his as she ran her hands up over his back and shoulders, kissing him again between labored breaths. She arched her back and guided his hand to her breast, holding it there as she let go of her inhibitions.

Dean moved his mouth down to her neck as he slipped his hand beneath her tank top and her bra to massage her breast. She moaned quietly, pressing her lips against his hair, and reached between their bodies with one hand to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. She slipped her hand inside to stroke him and smiled at the soft sigh he let out against her neck. She nibbled his ear and inhaled his scent before he lifted his head to meet her lips again. She raised her hips against his, squeezing her leg against his hip.

He moved between her legs, breaking away from her to tug on her tank top and pull it off of her, then he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. She tossed them on the floor on the other side of the salt circle and lay back down, closing her eyes as his lips returned to her skin. She reached up to run a hand through his hair as he moved lower, trailing kisses from her collarbone down to her breast, where he pinched a taut nipple between his lips before sucking and massaging it with his tongue. He reached between their bodies, pushing his hand into her shorts. A tinge of pleasure coursed through him when he felt the damp spot on her panties, and he rubbed her sex through the soft cotton.

Andy shuddered and moaned at his touch, his teasing torturous. "Dean..." She ran her hand through his hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp, and released his member as he moved further down the bed. She pushed at the hem of her shorts, and he gripped them with her panties and pulled them down past her hips and over her thighs as he kissed her flat stomach. He sat up to lift her feet and pulled her shorts off completely, then as he gripped the backs of her thighs and spread her legs, he lowered his head between them. The sweet scent of her arousal was subtle but intoxicating as he kissed along the edge of her lips, licking and tasting her.

She arched her back, chewing her lip to subdue a moan as she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of his warm, soft tongue as he ran the tip over her sensitive bud and down her slit before slipping it between her lips. She breathed deeply, growing warmer inside as he took his time exploring her with his mouth. She was already wet and excited from the dream she'd had, but when he flicked his tongue against her clit, she felt a jolt of pleasure run through her, bringing her closer to climax. Her legs trembled, and her breathing stopped and started with deep breaths and stifled moans as she spread her knees further apart. When gentle waves coursed through her as she reached her orgasm, she squeezed his shoulder and sat up to meet him for a kiss as he rose.

As she tugged his pants down his hips, Dean reached into his back pocket for his wallet and quickly pulled out a condom, then tossed the wallet on top of the headboard, barely missing the shotgun. He tore the packaging and broke their kiss, pushing his pants down further before rolling the condom down his shaft. He pushed her back onto the bed with a kiss and lowered his hips between her legs, lining himself up with her entrance and coating his tip with her lubricant.

It had been three years since Andy was last intimate with a man, but she was completely aroused and confident she was ready. She ran her hands down Dean's sides and rested them on his hips, pulling him toward her, gently urging him to continue. She gasped softly into their kiss as he penetrated her slowly, spreading her tight walls. He stopped halfway, giving her time to adjust, and she looked up at him to meet his gaze before raising her hips to take him further inside. She pulled him into another deep kiss as she spread her legs wider.

Dean slipped his hand beneath her, holding her lower back to keep her hips raised, and tightened his muscles as he slid deeper inside of her. Keeping one arm anchored to the bed, Andy arched her back, pressing her body against his as she moved her hips against him. She raised her head, pressing her cheek against his as she whispered into his ear, "You feel so good..."

Her words sent a wave of ecstasy through him. He licked his lip, sighing against her hair as he drew his hips back and gave her a long, gentle thrust, filling her. He reached down and hooked one of her legs with his arm and pushed it up toward her chest, thrusting into her with a steady rhythm. She moaned softly between labored breaths, squeezing him as waves of pleasure washed over her with building intensity. She was surprised at how quickly she was reaching her peak again and gripped his arm, frustrated that her body was bringing her so torturously close to the edge without going over. At the same time, it felt so good that she was glad it was drawn out.

Dean entwined her fingers with his and pinned her hand down on the bed as he kissed her again, unable to resist her soft lips. He knew she was close, but he continued to thrust into her slowly, filling her fully and grinding against her mound to stimulate her sensitive bud. He was holding back himself. When she wrapped her leg around his waist, he unhooked her other leg to reach between them and circle her clit with his fingers. She closed her eyes, resting her head back into her pillow as she contracted around him again, and gasped sharply as he thrust into her harder and faster the length of his shaft, heightening the sensations she felt inside. She squeezed his hand as her breath caught in her throat, and she curled her toes as her body went rigid. She contracted around him in waves as a powerful orgasm wracked her body, and her legs tightened around him briefly before falling languid at his sides, her body releasing all its tension.

He kept thrusting into her as she massaged his manhood through her orgasm, and he moved his hand from between her legs to hold her waist. Leaning forward, he buried his face against her neck, letting out a quiet groan as he pushed himself deep inside of her, throbbing against her walls as he came.

Andy wrapped her arms around him, his heavy breaths against her neck tickling her skin. She turned her head, kissing his face tenderly, and sighed softly, "I don't think I could have fallen asleep with you anywhere near me without doing that first." She admitted, "I tried to resist."

He kissed her cheek, "Why did you try to resist?"

"Didn't want you to think I'm a slut," she said and rolled her eyes. "I mean, we did just meet earlier today. But these are... unique circumstances."

"I don't think you're a slut. Tammy is a slut." Dean smiled, "I like you."

"I like you too."

He sat up to remove the condom and reached past her for a tissue from the box on her headboard, then wrapped it up and dropped it in the waste basket beside the bed. Then, he pulled up his boxer briefs and pants.

Andy pulled the sheets up over herself, resting her legs together. She sat up and reached back for a glass of water and drank it down to the last drop before setting the empty glass back on the headboard. She caught a glimpse of the clock as she did and looked surprised, "Two A.M.! And yet this is the most energy I've had all week." She rolled over onto her stomach and stretched.

Dean admired her bottom through the sheets as he reached over her head for his glass of water. He took a sip and set the cup down. "Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll get to the bottom of this." He lay back down, and Andy assumed the position they'd started in, resting her head on his chest and hugging him.

"Okay." She wiggled her toes against his still sock-covered foot and glanced down at it without lifting her head. She used her toes to try and peel his sock off, too lazy to reach down. When she got one past his heel, she let out a quiet victorious, 'Heh!'

Dean chuckled and kicked off his sock as he pulled her tight against him. "Have a nice, long sleep this time."

"I will."

The next morning, Andy was trying to figure out if she was hearing Cream's 'Sunshine of your love' or Scorpions' 'Rock you like a Hurricane.' She opened her eyes and realized the guitar riff was coming from Dean's phone across the room, in one of his jacket pockets. She lifted her head to look up at the clock on the headboard, which read 9:05.

"Morning," Dean opened his eyes and smiled up at her, listening to the beep of his phone going to voicemail.

"Hi," she smiled back and reached up to turn the lamp off, then pulled the blanket up as she lay back down.

When his phone started ringing again, Dean grumbled and rolled out of bed to retrieve his phone. "Hey, Sammy, what's up?"

"Were you sleeping? What time are you going to get over here so we can get back to work?"

"Yeah, it was a long night. We had a run in with the incubus," Dean answered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he cleared the sleep from his eyes.

"Did you kill it?"

"No." He looked at the clock, "Damn, it's after nine? I was more tired than I thought."

"Can you be back here in half an hour? We should get started. And I want to get breakfast."

"Yeah, okay. Half an hour. I'm bringing Andrea along to help us."

Andy watched him as she stretched out on the bed beneath the blanket and couldn't help wondering if she'd just had a one night stand or if it could be more. She hoped for the latter.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's a good idea. I'll see you in a half hour, okay, bye." He hung up on him and tossed his phone on the chair before picking up his shirt off the ground. He put his amulet back on around his neck after untangling it from his shirt.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Andy said, sitting up, and looked at him as he started getting dressed. "Want to join me?"

He stopped putting his shirt on as it was halfway down his head and pulled it back off. "You really don't need to ask."

She grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek as she passed him on her way to the bathroom.

Sam was ready and waiting for them with his laptop and dad's notebook. When he heard the impala pull into the parking lot, he stepped outside, locking the door behind him.

Andy stepped out of the car and smiled at Sam as she moved to the backseat, "Good morning!"

"Morning," Sam smiled back, then looked at Dean.

"Should we go to the IHOP down the street?" Andy suggested. "We could probably sit there for a while without being bothered by a lot of people." She mumbled, "Plus it's next to a Starbucks."

"Sure," Sam shrugged.

Dean drove them down the street and parked in the back of the lot. "Do you want to go get your fancy coffee while we get a table?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you inside. Can I get you guys anything? Sam, a pumpkin spice latte maybe?"

"Just a plain coffee, thanks," Sam answered.

"Me too," Dean added.

"Are you sure?" she urged, "'tis the season to drink pumpkin and gingerbready things. Mm."

Sam hesitated then shrugged, "Surprise me."

She grinned and looked at Dean. "Feeling adventurous, Dean?"

He gave in, "I'll try anything once. Get me whatever you think tastes good."

Sam looked at him on the way into the IHOP, "If she gets you a vanilla latte, I'm going to make fun of you."

"Shut up."

Sam sat down in a corner booth across from Dean. He picked up a menu tucked behind the napkin dispenser. He opened it, but he was looking at Dean. "So... aside from the obvious, what happened last night?"

"I don't know what you mean," Dean said, giving him an innocent look, "I salted all the entrances to her apartment, but I forgot to cover the bathroom window. Remedied that before we left. I also put a circle around her bed, but the salt got disturbed, and she was... attacked by the incubus. I shot it, fixed the circle, and that took care of it for the night."

"Good thing you were there or she'd probably be in a coma," Sam said, furrowing his brow. "But you don't think she could be involved somehow? In controlling it, I mean. She could have been playing you last night after she discovered we were onto her. I mean, she is still the only connection between all the victims."

"This girl would have to be one hell of an actress to fool me. I could tell she was genuinely afraid and bothered by this thing. But it's something I've kept at the back of my mind to keep a look out for... even if I don't think she's doing that."

"Did you talk to her about them at all?"

"Ooh," Dean looked up, thinking, "That's a bit of an oversight."

Sam was annoyed, "You didn't mention their names?"

"It was a busy night, Sam. I might have forgotten to touch base on the other girls specifically."

"You had all night."

Dean smirked, "Yeah, well."

Andy walked in with a cardboard cup holder and cups stacked on top of one another, six all together. She sat down next to Dean and set them down on the table.

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Why so many cups?"

"We're not taste testing the whole menu, are we?" Dean asked.

"Well, you guys wanted black, so I got you both," Andy answered, setting a cup of coffee in front of each of them.

"You know they serve coffee here too, right?" Sam smiled, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah, but it's not as good," she said.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Sammy," Dean chastised.

"I'm... thank you, Andy."

"You're welcome."

A waitress came by to take their orders, apologetic for the wait. Andy ordered French toast with eggs whites, Dean ordered a stack of pancakes with a side of sausage, and Sam ordered a plate of bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit. Dean looked at the other cups in the cardboard holder, "So, what else did you get?"

She set down the cups between them, "Pumpkin spice latte and gingerbread latte."

Sam reached for the gingerbread, but Dean snatched it up first and sniffed it, "Gingerbread, huh?" Sam gave him a look like he'd just stolen the bacon off his fork, and Dean looked over the cup at him, "What? I'm older, I get first pick."

"Fine. I wanted the pumpkin anyway," Sam said, taking a sip.

Dean looked at the two cups in front of Andy, "What did you get?"

"Oh, my usual Caramel Macchiato and an Apple Cider Spice."

Dean shrugged and tried the Gingerbread latte, made a face and set the cup down. He slid it across the table to Sam. "Let me try the pumpkin one."

"What?" Sam looked incredulous. "No!"

"Come on! Let me try it!"

"Get your own."

Andy laughed and handed Dean her cider. "Try this."

He sniffed it before tasting it. "That's good. Thank you."

"So, Andy," Sam said, bringing them back to business, "Did you know Joyce, Rebecca, Britney, and Janine are all in comas?"

"I'm impressed you remembered all their names without a cheat sheet," Dean said.

Andy looked at Dean, "You forgot to mention that to me?"

Dean looked back and forth between them like he was being ganged up on. "I was distracted."

Andy looked at Sam, "Well, that explains their absences. Why were they being targeted?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. Is there anyone else that takes both classes with you?"

"No." She waited for some sort of explanation or another question, but Sam just looked back at her. She looked at Dean and back at Sam. "I'm not a suspect, am I?"

Sam used a tone of voice like he was breaking it to her gently, "You're the connection between them all. And you're still conscious."

"I didn't think that could be a bad thing until you said it that way."

The waitress came back to the table with their breakfast and went to tend to her other customers.

"Sorry. This is just a tricky situation. We don't know yet if somebody summoned it or if it's a rogue spirit. If it's summoned, it doesn't look good with you being at the center of it all." Sam poked at his eggs so the yolks spilled across the plate.

"You think someone put a curse on me? Like in that movie where everyone around the person falls under bad luck?" Andy frowned, pouring syrup on her French toast.

Sam looked at Dean, "That's a possibility."

Dean set his cup down and looked at Andy, "Is there anyone you can think of that would want to take some kind of revenge on you?"

"No," she started, then thought twice about it. "Well... maybe. There is one friend I had a falling out with about six months ago. But I really doubt she'd dabble in witchcraft or that she had it out for me that bad. I'd be more suspicious of that vegan hippie in my yoga class. Shit, I forgot, she's in a coma."

"We should still follow up on this friend. What was her name?" Dean asked before biting into a piece of sausage.

"Wendy Tormey."

Sam opened his laptop beside his plate to take notes. "What caused the falling out?"

"She was two faced," Andy said, taking a bite of her French toast. They waited for her to elaborate, so she swallowed before continuing, "She acted like I was her best friend, but any mutual friends of ours said she was bitter about me, that she always had something bad to say. I think she was jealous. She was definitely possessive. If I ever went out with other friends, she took it personally. She hated my ex because he 'took me away' from her. And when she started dating a mutual friend of ours, George, he asked me what I thought about her. I didn't know they were dating. I basically told him she was nuts." She sighed, "Real good friend I am, right? Can't blame her for being angry at me for that one."

Sam smiled, "You're a real 'bro.'"

Andy laughed, "Well, to her I was a total bitch. We had it out, and she said she 'didn't love me anymore.' I'd known her since high school, but I just said 'Good riddance' over a text message and changed my phone number. I don't need that kind of venom in my life."

"Something tells me that you might have put this behind you, but she sure as hell hasn't. Dig around for any info you can find on this crazy chick and where she lives now, Sam."

"Alright." Sam accessed the DMV database to look her up.

"So, Andy, ever commit a B and E?" Dean gave her a mischievous smile.

"No, but it's on my bucket list."

"I'm so close to replacing Sammy with you as my new partner." Dean gave Sam a mock serious look, "Better watch out, Sammy, she's gunning for your spot."

"I could use a vacation," Sam smiled, playing along with it. "Wait... does she know... everything?" Dean gave him a shrug. "Seriously? You're the worst secret keeper ever."

"Dude, she wasn't gonna talk to me. She literally said 'if you were a paranormal investigator.' How could I _not_ tell her what we do?"

Sam tried to wipe the look of disbelief off his face and looked back at the screen of his laptop.

"Besides, it's not like we haven't been honest before on the job. Remember Haylie?"

Andy added, "I'll keep your secret, don't worry."

Sam looked at her, "It's nothing against you, just... nothing." He went back to typing.

"Funny, you're getting mad at me about it when you're the one always preaching about trying the honest route."

"That's different." Sam knew it was an unspoken rule not to tell people about what they do for their safety. It was also Dean that was always drilling it into his head that it was one of dad's rules. "Just forget it, okay? It's not a big deal."

"Now we're on the same page."

Andy punctuated the awkward silence that followed their dispute, "So, whose house are we breaking into?"

"We should go look around some of the victims' places. See if we can find any hex bags or signs of spells. Anything that can tell us if there's a witch involved," Dean said.

Sam looked up from the map on his screen, "I'm going to check the hospital to see if anybody else was admitted, then I'll go check out Wendy's place. Looks like she lives in an apartment a few blocks from the hospital."

"Oh, she has a dog," Andy noted. "In case that's important."

Sam hadn't thought of that. "What kind of dog?"

"Oh, he's just a stinky beagle with a skin condition."

"So, we'll stop by the store and get a jar of peanutbutter," Dean winked and stood up, dropping some money on the table. "Be careful, Sammy. If she really is a witch capable of summoning this thing..."

"I know, I'll be careful."

"That's when you shouldn't be above hitting a girl," Andy added.

Sam looked at her, surprised. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Don't worry. Sam will probably try to connect with her emotionally and show her the error of her ways," Dean said with a hint of mockery to his tone.

Sam gave him another look as he closed his laptop and followed them to the car.

"Oh, Sammy, try to find a diary if you can. Look for a pink book with ponies and princesses on it."

"Pink diary?" Sam looked up at Andy for confirmation.

She shrugged, "I have no idea what he's talking about."

"What?" Dean looked at them, "She's a chick."

Andy scoffed, "So, all girls like ponies and princesses? If she's a witch, wouldn't it be black with pentagrams and blood and stuff?"

Dean shook his head, "Too obvious."

"Her favorite color is green, for the record. Not that it matters."

Dean amended his earlier statement, "Okay, look for a green book with ponies and princesses... wearing pointy black hats."

Sam sighed, "This is the most pointless discussion we've had all week."

Andy grinned, "It's only been that long?"

Dean dropped Sam off at the hospital in the circle driveway, and Andy took his place in the front seat. Sam rested his hands on the top of the car as he leaned down to talk to them through the open window, "Keep your phone on, Dean. Andy, can you open that for a sec?"

She opened the glove compartment where they kept a pile of badges and ID's. "Whoa, jackpot."

Dean leaned over, grabbed his CDC badge and tossed it out the window to him. "See you in a while, Sam."

"Be safe," Andy added before Dean hit the accelerator. She looked through the ID's but could tell Dean was uncomfortable with her snooping, so she put them back and closed the compartment. "Sorry, I'm nosy. Those badges look legit. You must be pretty smooth thieves to pull them off of cops." She looked at him and grinned, "So, are you good cop or bad cop?"

"I'm better suited to being the bad cop between me and Sam. He's too much of a goody two-shoes to really squeeze someone for information."

"He does have that trustworthy look about him."

"Are you saying I don't?"

"Oh, no. You're charming, but you look like you listen to the little devil on your shoulder. Sam just seems like he can win anyone's trust in under a minute. He has a look."

"You mean that constipated puppy dog look he gets? It's in the eyebrows."

She laughed, "Yeah. So, what about me? Good cop or bad cop?"

"Bad cop."

"Really? You think being bad cop would come more naturally to me?"

"No, but it would be adorable to see you threaten to beat the crap out of a suspect while I tell them that you're a loose cannon."

She grinned, "I like it. So, if we ever get a chance to team up, how about I'll be the bad cop if a guy's involved but a good cop if it's a woman?"

"Deal. I can tell working with you is going to be the most fun I've had in weeks." He stopped the car in front of Rebecca's apartment complex and parked along the curb.

They walked down the concrete pathway as they looked for 21B. "Too bad this situation is probably never going to happen. Unless..." She took out her phone and typed a note into it. She could always incorporate it into a novel.

Dean looked at her phone. "What are you doing?"

"Writing it down to throw into a novel, so I can live vicariously through my writing." She looked up at him and shrugged, "I live a pathetic existence."

"Ha! Really? Let me see that." He snatched her phone from her and typed his number into her contacts before calling himself. "Don't go texting me a hundred times a day though, okay?" He added her to his contacts. "And you're not pathetic."

"Thanks," Andy smiled and took her phone back. She peeked through the window before knocking on the door. "I think Melissa is home."

A pale red head barely reaching five feet tall answered the door. Dean recognized her as the girl Sam had spoken to in the hospital the day before. "Hi, Andy. What brings you here? And… hey, aren't you that CDC guy's partner?"

"Yeah, I, uh, left my badge in the car. But I was wondering if I could take a look around your house, just in case there's some kind of contagion."

Melissa looked at him suspiciously. He wasn't dressed in a suit anymore but jeans and a leather jacket. "And you two are together?"

"Small world, huh?" Andy smiled. "We won't make a mess or destroy anything. We just want to make sure you're safe and find any leads to help Rebecca."

"Okay," Melissa opened the door wider and they walked inside.

Andy gave her a hug, "How are you holding up?"

"It's rough. Thanks for coming by though."

"Do you mind if I help him look around?"

"No, it's okay. Are you looking for mold or something?"

"We'll know when we find it," Dean answered. He walked into the kitchen and started checking under the sink and through the cabinets.

"I guess I'll cover the bathroom."

After going through the cabinets, Dean looked at Melissa, who was standing behind him, watching every move he made. "Think I can have a look at your bedroom? You can go in ahead if you have any embarrassing stuff to hide."

"Oh, sure."

Andy checked all the drawers and even under the tank lid of the toilet in her search, even though she had no idea what she was looking for. When he passed her in the hallway on his way to the bedroom, she followed him inside. He started rifling through the drawers, and Andy suggested thoughtfully, "We should check the bed. I mean, they're in comas, so it would make sense to look there."

"You're probably right. Why didn't you think of checking under the bed when we first got here?"

She stuck her tongue out at him as she walked over to the far side of the bed. She checked inside the pillow cases while Dean lifted up the mattress.

"Nothing," he said. "Maybe underneath." They both knelt down on the floor to check the floor under the bed. "Think you can squeeze under there to get it?"

"I can try." Andy crawled under the bed, shimmying her way underneath, but it was a tight fit, only maybe six inches above the ground. "I don't know how Wendy could have put this under here; she's bigger than me."

"Maybe she just tossed it under. So, is she 'a great big fat person'?"

Andy chuckled, "You're terrible. No." She reached out and grabbed the bag, then slowly wiggled her way out until Dean pulled her out by her ankles. She sat up and held it out to him, "That it?" She inhaled before sneezing. She felt like she was coated in dust.

He put the hex bag in his pocket and helped her up. "Well, it definitely confirms our suspicions of a witch. Actually it's better that than searching for a rogue spirit."

Dean's cell rang and he answered, "Hey, Sam, guess what we found."

"I'm really hoping for anything right now. You won't believe who was admitted to the hospital this morning. "

Andy stood on her tiptoes to listen, then whispered, "Put him on speaker."

Dean looked around for Melissa before hitting the speaker button. "We found a hex bag here."

"Good. Go find the rest. Tammy was admitted this morning, and one of the girls… Janine - died."

Andy looked up at Dean, horrified.

Dean's jaw tightened, "We need to hurry, Sam. Are you still at the hospital?"

"No, I'm on my way to Wendy's now. I checked the hospital room for any paraphernalia, didn't see anything. This thing must have followed her to the hospital somehow to finish her off. He's more powerful now. Tomorrow morning, the next victim might not end up in a coma at all."

"We had it cut off from Andrea. It's probably pretty pissed off too. Be careful, Sammy, who knows what kinda crazy crap can go down if you run into Wendy and she wants to harm you."

"Well, there's no time for me to wait for you. You need to get the rest of those hex bags."

"We'll catch up with you as soon as we can." Dean hung up.

"Does he have a weapon?" Andy asked, concerned. "You know, I can wing it - the B&E's I mean - if you need to go help him."

"Are you sure? I'd rather not leave you alone with a pissed off sex spirit roaming around and hex bags to be found."

"I already know where to look. Just let me flash your badge at the landlord if I can't find a way in."

"Okay. I'll take you back to your place, but make sure you contact me the moment you think something is up."

"Okay. What do we do with the hex bag?"

"Burn it. All of it. That's all you have to do."

"Okay." Andy walked out to the front room with Dean where Melissa was waiting for them. "We're done here, Melissa."

"Your girlfriend is going to be okay," Dean assured her.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Did you find something?"

Dean hesitated, "You're safe, you don't need to quarantine your room or anything like that. But we know what the underlying cause is, and we know how to help her recover."

"Is it an allergy to something?"

"The doctor will run some tests to make sure, but that's possible," Dean said, using her leading questions to satisfy her curiosity.

Andy opened the front door to leave and turned to say good-bye to Melissa. Dean slipped outside to avoid further questioning. "I'll talk to you later, Melissa. There's no need to worry anymore."

Dean took his hand held torch out of the trunk and moved to the driver's seat. He kept the driver side door open as he lit the bag on fire and dropped it on the ground. It burned bright blue. "That should break the curse on her girlfriend."

"Wow," she watched as it disintegrated. "What was in it?"

"A bone, maybe from a chicken or a cat, something of the victim's, other hoodoo and voodoo type stuff. "

"Yuck." She walked back around to the passenger side and picked up the list of addresses off the seat before she sat down. She reached into the glove compartment for one of his badges and ignored the .9 mm Taurus 92. "I'm borrowing this. Where does Tammy live?"

"Sorority."

"Oh, right, with Britney. So, two birds with one stone. What are you guys going to do if you find Wendy?"

"Well, hopefully we won't have to kill her. I'm guessing she's a novice witch, so it wouldn't be as hard as putting a bullet between her eyes. Now, if she's got the backing of a demon... that can prove problematic."

"I'll join you guys after I gather all the hex bags. Maybe I can talk her down if it is her. I wouldn't have expected this from her, but I don't know who else it could be."

Dean drove back downtown and parked outside her apartment. "Remember to keep your eyes open and get the hell out of there if you think something is wrong."

"I will. I'll text you updates as I go."

He reached into the backseat and handed her his double barrel shotgun. "Take this just in case you need it." He dug through his pocket and handed her five salt filled shotgun shells. "Don't hesitate to blast that spirit if you see it."

"Thanks," she cracked a smile and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. She tucked the list of addresses and the shotgun shells into her purse before stepping out of the car. She walked up the stairs to her apartment, relieved no one saw her carrying a shotgun, and set her things down on the kitchen counter. She went through her walk-in closet in her bedroom looking for a bag large enough to hide the shotgun in, but all she came up with was a colorful beach tote. 'This will look ridiculous, but it'll have to do,' she thought.

She found a box of matches in her kitchen drawer and placed them in the tote with the shotgun, ammo, badge, and her wallet. She opened the fridge and took out a cold cup of coffee she'd saved from the previous morning and sipped it on her way back into the bedroom. She set it on the headboard before crouching down on all fours. Dean had already moved the bed away from the wall, and there wasn't a hex bag on the floor. She couldn't see any tears in the dust protector on the box spring either. She lifted up the mattress in case it was stuffed in between, but she couldn't see anything, so she pushed it off the box spring and flipped it over. She lifted the box spring and sighed, letting it down. "Where the hell is it?" She checked the drawers to her dresser, but there were only clothes inside. She'd have to look again later, after she'd disposed of the hex bags in the comatose victims' houses. She grabbed her beach tote and went downstairs to her car. 'First stop, Joyce's house.'

Sam tried knocking on Wendy's door, but no one answered. He looked around for passersby before he knelt down to pick the lock, and he was greeted by a happy dog when he opened the door. "Hey, boy." He pet him on the head before he remembered the skin condition. The apartment was sparsely decorated and clean, with the exception of a few dog toys strewn about the living room floor. There was a television with an X box in front of a futon sofa, and the sink was beginning to collect a pile of dirty dishes. He walked down the hall to the bedroom and noticed writing all over the walls. For a brief moment, he expected to read something dark hinting at her being a serial killer, but the writing on the walls were random quotations and song lyrics. He read the lines above her bed that ran together:

_We write our prayers on a little bomb Kiss it on the face and send it to God __And all the things that you never ever told me And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me Is there really no way to reach me? Am I already gone? So this is your Maverick And this is Vienna __My feet is my only carriage So I've got to push on through But while I'm gone Everything's gonna be alright._

"Huh. So she likes her music." He turned to her desk against the opposite wall and checked the drawers, but he didn't find anything useful. A blank notebook, a pack of post-it notes, a collection of pens and pencils, a matchbook, and a pack of AA batteries. Then, he stepped over to the chest of drawers against the adjacent wall and checked each drawer, which held a few pairs of socks, underwear, and T shirts. Next, he checked her closet, but it was empty except for some hanging clothes and a row of shoes on the floor. Last, he checked under her bed, but there were only dust bunnies. On his way to the bathroom, he texted Dean: _House looks clean. Not sure it's her._

He opened the door to the broom closet on his way down the hall, but aside from a vacuum and an ironing board, it was empty too. The happy dog walked up to him with his tongue lolling out and his tail wagging. "Hey boy, where's the altar?" Sam bent forward, hands on his knees. "Altar." The dog wagged its tail and ran into the bedroom. "There's no way that worked." The dog came back with a shoe in his mouth.

Sam heard a key inserted into the doorknob and quickly sidestepped into the bathroom. He waited for her to enter, but the door didn't open. He realized he hadn't locked it behind him when he broke in and figured she knew better than to come inside. He texted Dean: _She knows I'm here, getting out. _He peeked out the living room window and saw a couple talking outside, so he decided to sneak out the bedroom window and take the fire escape into the back alley.

Sam was surprised to see Dean pull up in the impala as he climbed out the window. When he was on the ground, he walked around the side of the car. "How did you know I would be here?"

"You didn't get my text?" Dean was met with a look that said 'What text?' and shrugged, "I'm psychic."

Sam sat down in the passenger seat and rested his arm on the open window frame. "I didn't find anything useful. She seems pretty average."

"Are you sure you turned that place upside down?"

"I checked pretty much everywhere, but I heard her come home, so I left." Sam looked at him, "Hey... I hate to pitch this idea again, but... did you snoop around Andy's apartment at all?"

"What? Like in her panty drawer? Do you think I'm some kind of pervert?"

"I -no, come on, be serious."

"No, I didn't go digging around. My gut tells me she's not our witch."

"Yeah, I don't think she is either. But I have my doubts about Wendy too."

"Did you check her panty drawer?"

Sam knitted his brows, "I didn't put my hands inside it."

Dean chuckled, "I'm picturing you going through it with a stick."

Sam stifled an amused grin, "No. I just checked the drawers and moved on. Only thing I found was her dog who has a skin problem. I will need to wash my hands by the way." He wiped his palms on his lap.

Dean grimaced, "You should've washed your hands in her bathroom. Now you're getting dog skin disease all over my car."

"I haven't even touched the car."

"You touched the handle!"

Dean's cell beeped with an incoming text message from Andy: _Got hex bag from Joyce's. Badge came in handy._

Andy dropped her phone into her tote and sat on the edge of her seat with the door to her car open. She curiously sniffed the hex bag and scrunched her nose at the smell before lighting a match and holding it under the bag. She looked around to make sure the coast was clear before stepping out of the car and setting the bag on the ground. She lit match after match, piling them around the hex bag until it finally caught aflame. She watched the fire burn blue and dissipate into ash before leaving. "Damn, that took almost all my matches." She tossed the matchbox into her bag and drove to the university.

When she arrived on campus, she bought a daily parking permit and walked where she remembered the sorority to be. She didn't exactly look the stereotypical part, but she hoped if she acted like she belonged there, they wouldn't be suspicious. She had no idea which room belonged to Tammy though.

Andy let herself in the front door, and there were a couple of girls sitting on the couch watching Jersey Shore. "Which room is Tammy's?" she asked.

One of the girls didn't even look at her and pointed, but the other looked over her shoulder and asked, "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm her sister," Andy snapped back like she had every right to be there.

"Oh."

Andy walked into the bedroom the first girl pointed to and noticed two beds on either side of a chest of drawers. There were posters adorning the walls, leaving little blank space between them, and clothes were strewn about the floor. Beside the digital clock on the chest was a plastic jar that looked like it came from Costco and used to hold mayonnaise, but the label had been ripped off and it was filled with something else.

She decided to start her search with the bed on the left and looked underneath it but didn't see anything. She checked the pillowcase and found a hex bag, dropped it in her tote and looked at the bed on the right, hoping Tammy and Britney shared the same room. She started with the pillowcase before crouching down and looking underneath the bed. "Always the last place you look," she sighed, setting her tote down and crawling underneath to reach it. Her phone vibrated in her back pocket and she wiggled to take it out. "Dean?"

"Hey, any luck on the other hex bags?"

"Yeah, I got Tammy's and Britney's. And they have a giant jar of condoms in their room."

"Guess we can't say those girls aren't prepared for the weekend." Dean saw Sam give him a look and continued, "The Wendy search was a bust. We're on our way back to your place."

One of the girls from the living room walked in and looked at Andy, who was still halfway under the bed. "Damn girl, you have a nice butt. You should rush for our sorority."

"Whoa, what am I missing out on over there?" Dean grinned, "And I agree with her. You do have a great butt."

Sam looked at Dean and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks," Andy said, wiggling out from under the bed with the hex bag in hand. "Oh, and I kinda killed all my matches on that first hex bag, so I'm gonna need your torch thingamajig."

"A what bag?" the sorority sister asked, confused.

"Not talking to you," Andy answered as she dropped the hex bag in her tote. She picked it up and walked past the sorority girl on her way out.

"Right, I forgot to give you the thingamajig, so just hang onto those hex bags, and we'll meet you at your place."

"I'll be there soon."

Andy placed her tote in the passenger seat and drove back to her apartment building across town. As she turned into the driveway of the parking lot, her engine coughed and the lights flickered on her dash. The numbers on the clock scrambled before restoring themselves to 3:53. "What-" She caught a glimpse of something in the rearview mirror and let out a startled cry as she stomped on the brake. Dean sat in the backseat, but she knew it wasn't really him. He didn't look how she'd imagined a spirit would look. He looked like flesh and blood.

She quickly put the car in park and reached into her bag with her right hand while she went for the handle on the door with her left, but the incubus grabbed her arms to restrain her as he moved into the front seat. She felt a magnetic energy paralyzing her, making her arms heavy. "No!" She squirmed and turned her body to kick at the spirit but only found air. Her head started to feel heavy, like her brain was made of lead, and she rested it against the driver side window with her hand pinned behind her neck. She wriggled her fingers to try to grasp the shotgun, but her wrist was held down against the seat. The incubus gripped her throat, freeing her hand on the door behind her. Unable to breathe, she smacked the horn before the incubus kissed her bruisingly hard and pinned her hand against the steering wheel. She felt dizzy and could feel him inside of her as he drained her energy, making her too weak to struggle against him. _No... I'm awake... I'm... _She heard gunshots and her eyelids flittered open.

Having heard the horn honking, Dean ran out to the car with Sam and shot the spirit through the windshield three times with his .45 caliber colt. "Damn it!"

The incubus flickered, distracted by the bullets but undeterred, and released Andy long enough for her to grip the shotgun beside her hand. She slid the safety off and angled it upward out of the bag, then pulled the trigger. She dented the ceiling of the car and shattered the passenger side window, but the spirit vanished into a mist.

Sam ran over to the driver's side door and opened it, then carefully lifted Andy out with his arms under hers. "Are you okay?"

She was still too weak to stand and dropped the shotgun on the driver seat as he pulled her out. "I'm alive," she answered.

He knelt down behind her, keeping her propped up. "Can you stand?"

"Not yet." She straightened up and bent her knees, leaning forward against them as she tried to gather her strength.

Dean knelt down in front of her and put his hand on her knee. He smirked, peering into her face, "You're a firecracker."

She looked up at him, tired, and smiled, "Hand me that coffee cup in there. I'm powered by coffee like Superman is powered by the sun."

Sam and Dean both stood up, but Dean reached into the cup holder in the car and retrieved her half empty cup of coffee for her. "When did you have time to stop for coffee?"

She took it and sipped it. "Leftovers from yesterday."

Sam cringed, "You drink day old coffee?"

"It's still good!"

Dean grabbed the shotgun and picked up her beach tote from the front seat. He looked amused.

"Okay, I didn't have a duffle bag, alright," Andy said indignantly.

"Wasn't gonna say a word."

"Let's hurry up and burn those hex bags and find the one in your place," Sam suggested.

"I already tossed my bedroom. I couldn't find it."

Dean took the handheld torch out of his jacket and burned the hex bags.

Sam furrowed his brow, "That means the spirit could be bound to a vessel, something in your apartment."

"Great. How do we know what it is?"

"Yeah, that's the thing..."

"We don't," Dean answered, dropping the burning hex bags on the ground.

Andy tried not to wobble as she stood up. "Let's figure it out inside where I can sit in a salt circle."

Dean closed her car door, "Sorry about your car."

"Yeah, I don't want to think about that right now. I doubt my insurance company will cover a shotgun blast from the inside. How would I even explain that?" She walked with them up to her apartment and collapsed into her couch. "Oh, relaxation."

Sam looked around and grinned at Dean when he saw the cage. Dean eyed Justin and looked at Sam as if to say, 'Shut up.' He cleared his throat, "We better double check all the entrances to make sure none of the salt lines have been broken."

"I don't wanna move. Can you?" Andy asked without looking up from where her face was buried in a cushion.

"Don't worry, he was talking to me," Sam said. He checked the windows and doors in the living room while Dean checked the bathroom then the bedroom. From the hallway, Sam peered into the bedroom where Dean was standing amongst a mess of bedding. "You weren't kidding when you said you tossed your bedroom. Looks like a tornado hit it."

"Oh, yeah, think you can fix the mattress for me?" Andy asked, turning her head to face the direction they were in so they could hear her.

Sam gave Dean a look that said 'go ahead.' He wasn't going to touch it himself after he knew what they did in it the night before. "Do you know where Wendy might run to if she were trying to hide?"

"No, it's been months since I've spoken to her."

Dean fixed the bed and joined them in the living room. "Sam, did you see anything in Wendy's apartment that might point us in the right direction? Magazines, business cards. No journal or diary?"

"I did see a matchbook for a club, I think it was Boogaloo?"

"Oh, she did like that place. I guess it's possible she'd go there. She was sleeping with one of the bartenders for a while. I think his name was Luis."

"Then, we'll start there," Dean said.

Sam looked at Andy, "Did you notice anything missing that turned up later where you'd thought you already looked?"

"I'd have to think about that one." She didn't keep that much stuff, but what she did have she was constantly misplacing.

"You should stay here while we check out the club. You're safe with the rock salt," Sam said.

Andy frowned, "Alright. Safe enough to take a nap?"

"Yeah," Dean looked around. "This thing is stronger than before but not strong enough to get by the protective barriers. Rest up and try to think about what the vessel could be. I'd hate to have to light your entire apartment on fire just to take this thing out."

She narrowed her eyes at him, uncertain whether or not he was joking. "Yeah, I'd hate that too."

"Don't worry, I've seen it in a movie before."

"Wait, what?" Sam looked at Dean, then turned to Andy. "Do you have a picture of Wendy, so we know who we're looking for?"

"In a shoebox in my closet."

Sam went into her bedroom to retrieve it and came back out with an old cardboard box. "Why don't you keep an album?" he asked and handed it to her.

She shrugged, "Just haven't bothered." Truth was she didn't like looking through the old pictures because they made her sad, but she wasn't going to toss them out. She dug through the box and handed him a picture of herself and Wendy from when they were in high school together nine years ago. "Okay, this probably isn't the best picture. I call this one 'the big laugh.'" Andy and Wendy were both laughing so hard they were squinty eyed and red faced in the photo.

Sam smiled and showed it to Dean. "Anything more recent?"

"Maybe on somebody's facebook, but I don't keep up with that stuff."

Dean looked at the picture, surprised at how different she looked when she was younger. "You're..."

"Nerdy looking?" Andy narrowed her eyes at him. "I was an ugly duckling. Took me a while to blossom."

He chuckled, "Cute... but I see the potential for her to go Hannibal Lector."

Andy snatched the picture from him and looked at it. "Because she's facing me with her mouth open?"

"I bet her vision tracks by movement too."

Andy laughed, "You're mean."

Sam nudged Dean, "Let's go."

Dean and Sam drove to Club Boogaloo and walked in through the front separately. It wasn't crowded yet as the doors just opened half an hour earlier, but it was also a Thursday. The floors were hardwood and the furniture a deep red that matched the walls. Even with the light pouring in through the glass double doors at the entrance, the club was dimly lit by gold tinted lamps. The bar was at the center of the establishment with booths and tables on the restaurant side. Dean took a seat at the center of the bar and ordered a drink while Sam took a look around. He didn't see anyone that resembled Wendy, but he noted the emergency exit at the back of the establishment beside the VIP section. He walked around the other side of the bar to find a dance floor and a booth for a DJ at the other end of the room. There was a hallway near him that lead to the restrooms and the kitchen. Behind the DJ's booth at the far end was another door that he guessed led to an office space or storage room.

After scoping the place out, Sam approached the bartender a few stools down from where Dean sat. "Excuse me, sir."

The bartender slung his towel over his shoulder and placed his hands on the counter. "What can I do for ya?"

Sam showed him his badge. "Do you know where I can find a Wendy Tormey?"

He shrugged, "I don't know that name."

Sam looked him up and down, "Are you Luis?"

The man hesitated, "No, he's out sick."

He could tell he was lying. "The faster you come clean with me the faster I can get out of here."

Luis wiped at a wet spot on the counter and kept his eyes glued to it. "Don't know what you're talking about, sorry."

"Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'm pretty sure if I got a look at your I.D., I'd find out you were lying to me. I can drag you down to the station for questioning if-"

He relented with a heavy sigh, "Fine, I'm Luis. What do you want?"

Sam looked annoyed, having to repeat himself. "I've been told you used to date Ms. Tormey. So, why don't you answer the question again."

He shrugged again, "Haven't seen her in weeks."

"Don't bullshit me, Luis. I'll charge you for obstruction of justice if you don't tell me where she is."

Dean butted in, "Hey, man, he said he doesn't know where she is."

Sam pursed his lips, giving Dean a snide look, "I don't believe I was talking to you."

"Yeah, well, you should quit harassing the guy!"

Sam looked back and forth between the two and fixed Luis with a look, "I'll be back." He walked back around the other side of the bar, and Luis watched him go into the hallway leading to the restrooms.

Luis sighed and threw his towel behind him, frustrated. "Thanks, man."

"No problem. I hate when cops try to give you that whole 'you're going to jail if you don't spill it' bit," Dean said, giving a look of disgust.

"It's a good thing you stepped in when you did though. Whew. I almost cracked."

"So you do know where she is? She must be some woman."

"Well, she is great in the sack," he smirked. "She's around here somewhere."

"Maybe you should tell her to lay low in a room out back until this guy leaves."

"I was just gonna do that," he said, pouring Dean another drink. "On the house."

Dean raised his glass, "Thanks." At the same time Luis texted Wendy, Dean texted Sam: _Back room. I'll go outside and find the back door. _He knocked back his drink before standing up and walking out.

Sam had already snuck behind the bar while Dean distracted Luis and was trying to pick the lock on the door to the office. The room was small with a red couch against the wall beside a small table with a tiffany lamp on top of it. On the wall adjacent to the couch was a desk with monitors showing live security camera footage, and across the room, in the corner on the floor, Wendy sat at a simple altar conjuring a spell. When she heard the door knob shake and the door open, she expected Luis to walk in. Sam took one look at the altar and aimed his gun at her. "Step away from the altar!"

Startled, Wendy stood up, raising her hands. She looked around as if she expected something to happen, and she felt her heart beat faster when nothing did. "Who are you and what do you want with me?!"

Sam took out his badge with his left hand and held it up for her to see. "I'm a police officer. Move away from the altar." He kept his gun trained on her as she moved away from the altar, and he approached it to take a closer look. He examined the symbols and contents surrounding the altar cloth to try to determine what she was casting or conjuring, but he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. He stomped the tea light candles out and rubbed his foot through the chalk on the floor.

"I haven't done anything!" While he was focused on her altar, Wendy ran for the backdoor leading to the side alley. She shoved the door open and ran smack into Dean.

"Well, that was easy," Dean said as he caught her and put her in a headlock. "Sammy! You okay!?"

Sam put his gun away and closed the door behind them. "I'm fine."

Wendy struggled, gripping his forearm against her throat, "Let go of me! You're not cops!"

"That's right, we're not cops," Dean said, dragging her with him to the back of the car.

When he opened the trunk, Wendy got a look at the weaponry in the false bottom. "Oh god, are you serial killers!?"

"What? No!" Dean grabbed the rope and shut the trunk. Sam opened the door to the backseat and Dean tossed her in, roughly bringing her hands behind her back and tying them together.

"Hey! Ow. What the hell!?" Wendy wriggled and writhed.

Sam kept watch. "Are we taking her to Andy's?"

Dean slapped some duct tape over her mouth. "Why not? Maybe Andy can talk some sense into this spell-casting psycho bitch."

Wendy gave him a muffled 'Fuck you.'

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I guess so. We'll be there, so I guess it's not like we're letting the devil loose in her living room."

"Besides, she can't do anything without an altar," Dean shrugged, shutting the car door. He opened his cell phone to call Andy as he walked around to the driver's side.

Andy woke up and fumbled for her phone, "Find her?"

"Yep, got her tied up in the backseat right now, and we're on our way there."

"Okay," Andy sat up and stretched. "By the way, I'm cooking dinner for you guys tonight."

"Oh yeah? Whatcha makin'?"

"Pot roast and biscuits. It's already in the oven."

Sam looked at him curiously, "Making?"

Dean grinned, "Dinner. Pot roast and biscuits. We better crack this witch fast."

"That does sound good."

"I'll see you soon," Andy smiled and hung up. Dean turned the ignition and pulled out of the alley to drive back to Andy's apartment.

"She won't stop kicking my seat," Sam said and looked back at Wendy who glared at him vindictively. "Cut it out."

"Just ignore it, Sammy." Dean felt Wendy headbutt the back of his seat. "HEY!" He looked over his shoulder at her, "If you don't behave yourself, we'll turn this car around and bury you out in the desert."

Sam thought that would be pretty out of the way considering where they were, but she actually stopped. When they pulled up to Andy's apartment building, Sam went around to the backseat and tried to help Wendy out, despite her going limp to try to make it more difficult.

Dean threatened, "Don't make me hogtie and carry you." She didn't budge. Dean exchanged looks with Sam. "You asked for it!" He grabbed another piece of rope from the car and hog tied her before picking her up off the ground and carrying her over his shoulder. "Please let the hallways be empty and the elevator working."

Sam checked to make sure the coast was clear and hit the elevator button. He heard someone coming and opened the door to the stairwell. "Someone's coming."

"I am NOT carrying her up these stairs!" Dean protested, stepping out of view of any passersby. Wendy squirmed and let out a muffled scream. "Hey, knock it off!"

When the coast was clear and the elevator doors opened, Sam held them for him. "Okay, hurry."

Dean quickly stepped into the elevator with her, letting the doors close on her head. "Whoops, haha, sorry about that." Wendy grunted and growled.

Sam gave Dean a look that said 'real mature' but smirked and pressed the button for the second floor.

Andy heard them coming and opened the door for them. Dean stepped over the salt line at the threshold and gave Andy a big grin when she looked at Wendy tied up over his shoulder. "She wouldn't cooperate," he said as he set her down on the couch.

Andy stared at him, "Wow. You know, when I talked about hog tying earlier, I was kinda joking."

Sam closed the door behind them. "We destroyed her altar, but that wouldn't stop the incubus she already summoned."

"Right..." Andy took a deep breath, reluctant to talk to Wendy, and ripped the tape off her mouth.

"OW!" Wendy cried, "What the hell!? Mind telling them to untie my legs so I can sit up!?"

Andy hesitated, "You're not going to try to run away, are you?"

"I don't think I would get far if I tried."

"Damn right you wouldn't," Dean interjected.

Sam untied her legs and said, impressed, "Dean, these are pretty good knots."

He smirked, "Thanks."

Wendy sat up, "Why did you send these goons to attack me?"

Dean exchanged incredulous looks with Sam and mouthed 'Goons?'

"They didn't attack you, they abducted you," Andy corrected her. "_You _attacked _me._"

"And we're not goons," Sam added defensively.

Wendy looked down at the floor and shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't know!" Dean growled. Sam gave him a look, and he backed off before he really started to antagonize her.

"Wendy, somebody is dead because of what you did! Do you have any idea what kind of evil you're messing with?"

Wendy looked up at her, shocked, "What? No! I didn't mean to kill anyone."

Dean shook his head, "You're playing with stuff you can't even begin to understand."

Andy frowned, "_Why_ did you do it?"

"You hurt me, Andy! You betrayed me and took away my boyfriend. It really hurt. I loved you! I respected you! I looked up to you!"

"If you love someone, aren't you supposed to let them go?" Dean curled his lip and interjected brusquely, "Not summon a goddamn incubus and unleash it on them."

Andy looked at Wendy earnestly, "I'm sorry."

Sam glanced at Dean, not sure Andy owed her an apology considering the circumstances.

Wendy confessed meekly, "I tried to make you come back to me... but I didn't mean for anyone to... die."

"How was putting everyone around me into comas supposed to make me come back to you?"

"'If I can't have you, no one can'?" Sam suggested.

"I thought you would seek my help..." Wendy looked up at her.

"Seek your help? Why would I think you could help me when I had no idea you were involved in the occult?"

"I missed you... We used to tell each other everything. I thought maybe you would think you couldn't talk to people about it because who would believe you? But you know I would."

Andy opened her mouth to speak, but she was speechless.

Sam furrowed his brow, "What were you doing when I walked in on you?"

Wendy looked at Sam, wringing her hands together, "I was trying to summon a succubus to take care of the guys in her classes..."

Dean took a step toward her, "Wait a minute. So you're telling me there's now an incubus _and_ a succubus wandering around out there?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know they were draining people to death. I thought it would just make them really tired and need lots of sleep."

"Did you bind it to something?"

"No, I didn't get that far before I was interrupted."

Andy threw her hands up and stood, "Damn it, Wendy! What about me? Did you put a hex bag in my place?" She was livid and could feel a rush of adrenaline with her outrage. "I can't leave my apartment without being ghost raped in my car, so tell me what I need to burn to be free of this thing!"

Dean scowled, "Seriously, you are one sick puppy. You need help, and you're lucky I don't leave a smoking hole in your forehead."

"It wasn't supposed to be this way. It was just supposed to give you naughty dreams and make you feel tired!" Wendy scooted down the couch away from Dean. "I used your rare copy of Catcher in the Rye."

Andy's face went deadpan as she stared at Wendy, "_Tell _me you're joking." She stuck her arm out toward Dean. "Give me your gun!"

Sam stepped forward, "Whoa, whoa. She told you what it is."

"One of your books?" Dean raised an eyebrow and exchanged looks with Sam.

Andy could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and blinked them away, "It's not just a book. It's a first edition signed by J.D. Salinger! It was given to me by my dad."

Dean cringed, "Sounds expensive."

"Don't ask," Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Dean opened his phone to look it up, and Andy groaned, "Why did you have to choose that, Wendy? Do you really hate me that much?"

"No..."

"Holy crap. Books cost that much?" Dean offered his gun to Andy as he showed the value on his cell screen to Sam. Sam gave him a sturgeon nod and pushed his arm down before Andy took the gun from him.

Wendy shrank in her seat, "Just destroy it and you'll get rid of the incubus."

Andy grumbled under her breath, 'I'll destroy you...' as she pulled the book from the top shelf. She opened it to smell the familiar old musty book scent she liked so much and hugged it to her chest. She needed to hold it together. She wasn't going to cry about it, not in front of them. "What if we sold it to some rich, snooty book collector and transferred the curse, then burned it?"

Wendy held a couch cushion in front of her. "Wouldn't work... I used your hair too..."

Andy stomped the floor, "You suck. You really, really suck. Who the hell thinks, 'let me curse the only thing in her house that is worth something'? Well, I guess that would make sense if you really wanted me to be miserable. But if you wanted me to like you, you couldn't have made a dumber choice."

Dean looked at Sam, "Is there any other way? Can't we just have this bitch summon the thing, and we banish it with one of dad's spells?"

Sam knit his brows, "I don't think it works that way. If we banish it, it'll just go back to its vessel. We'd need someone experienced enough to unbind it to banish it first. Spells like that take days. She'd be under house arrest, and this thing is already pretty strong. One slip up and she could be dead."

Andy sighed and quickly shoved the book into Sam's hands. "I can't watch. Get it over with."

Dean put his arm around her and gave her a hug. "It's gonna be alright."

Sam felt bad for her, but he took Dean's handheld torch and the book to the sink, lit it on fire, and dropped it into the sink to let it burn.

Andy whispered to herself unconvincingly, "Just a book, it's just a book..." She headbutt his shoulder lightly in frustration. "Today sucks." His arms around her distracted her a little bit from the smell of her prized possession burning away in her kitchen. "I guess on the bright side, I'm not cursed anymore... and you're here."

"What should we do with her?" Dean said, giving a nod toward Wendy, who had her face buried shamefully into the couch cushion.

Andy didn't want to look at her, but she asked, "Are you going to help us get rid of the succubus?"

"Yes... I can summon the succubus here, but I'm going to need someone to serve as a," she air quoted, "'victim.'"

"You mean you need bait?" Dean looked at her.

"Yes, and I'll need to make a new altar."

Dean shrugged, "Okay, I'll be the bait."

Andy looked at him, "Are you sure that's the only way?"

Sam turned the water on to wash out the sink and spoke over his shoulder, "Right now the succubus is weak and will only target someone in their sleep. That's why she didn't show up to attack me in the bar. I'm going to draw a pentagram under the bed, and I'll read the banishing spell when she shows up."

"Hey, look at it this way," Dean smirked at Andy, "we can have another thing in common after this."

"I need a strand of your hair," Wendy said, reaching up to pluck one from his head.

Dean gave her a dirty look that made her freeze and take a step back, "I didn't say you could do it yet." He looked confused as Andy pulled one out from the back of his head. "Ow." He looked at her, "You sneak attacked me."

"I pulled out your gray hair."

"You... wait, what? No way! Let me see it." Dean held her hand up to inspect it as he rubbed the back of his neck where she pulled it from.

"I'm kidding!" Andy chuckled and handed it to Wendy. "So, how about while Wendy gets her summoning on, I serve dinner?"

"Good idea. Put me into a food coma." Dean cast Wendy a sidelong glance and whispered to Andy, "But you sure we can leave her alone in there?"

Andy nodded, "Yeah. I don't think she meant to kill anyone, and she knows if she tries anything, she's got you to deal with."

"Because we could have Sam babysit her-"

Sam gave Dean a look.

"Nope, I want to feed you both. Now sit," Andy ordered, pointing at the dining table. They each took a seat at her seldom used dinner table while she removed the pot roast from the oven and put the biscuits in. She set the table and served them while Wendy built her altar in the bedroom on the floor using items from around the house.

"It disturbs me that I have everything she needs to build an altar," Andy said.

"To be fair, you don't really need much." Sam bit into a forkful of pot roast. "Mm, this is amazing. Thank you."

Dean grunted his agreement with a mouthful of biscuit. They were so used to eating food from convenience stores, truck stops, fast food joints, and diners that it had been months since they'd had a home cooked meal. When he finished, Dean leaned back in his chair, ready to loosen his belt a notch or two. "That was awesome. Now I'm ready for a nap."

"Can I keep you company for a while?" Andy asked, taking their plates to the sink.

"Sure, yeah," Dean said, standing up. He wasn't going to say no. He handed Sam his gun, walked into the bedroom, and looked at Wendy.

She looked back at him, "It's ready."

"Good. You should go wait in the other room," he said as he fell back on the bed and punched the pillow with his face to make it more comfortable.

Andy handed Sam the remote to the television. "If you want to watch TV while we wait."

"Thanks, but I'd rather look at your books," Sam said, taking the remote.

"Help yourself," Andy grinned. She walked into the bedroom, nearly bumping into Wendy on her way out. There was an awkward shuffle between them as they moved back and forth to pass one another. Andy froze and waved her past, "You can help yourself to leftovers if you're hungry."

"Thanks, Andy."

Andy kept the door to the bedroom open, just in case Dean was a light enough sleeper that opening it when she needed to could wake him up. She sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if he'd already fallen asleep. He was lying on his back with his hands tucked under the pillow behind his head with his eyes closed. Then, he opened one eye to peek up at her and smiled. "You're making me way too comfortable for someone about to offer his body up to a succubus."

"Oh, and here I was going to offer to give you a back massage."

Dean looked at her to judge whether or not she was joking and rolled over on his stomach. "I accept."

She helped him remove his jacket before she started kneading his shoulders and upper back, relaxing him so he felt like he was melting into the bed. After a few minutes, she whispered, "I'll keep watch and get Sam when she shows up."

He rolled over onto his back again and looked up at her through heavy lids, "Getting close but not quite there yet."

She smiled, "I know I'm probably keeping you from sleeping, but I haven't had much time to talk with you today." She massaged his neck and chest while she admired his kissable lips.

Dean pulled her over so she sat on his stomach and rested his hands on her thighs. "Then, let's talk."

"Wish we had the place to ourselves," she said, moving her hands back up to his shoulders to squeeze them. "I'm so relieved to be rid of that thing though. Even if it cost me." She leaned forward to kiss him.

He ran his hands up her back, holding her in place as he returned her kiss. "We'll kick those two out as soon as we banish this sucker."

"Okay. Then, I better let you try to sleep." She didn't want to take her hands off him, but she knew there was a chance she was waking him up rather than putting him down. She moved across the room to the chair in the corner and hung his jacket over the back of it.

"Time to get this shit done." Dean closed his eyes and tossed and turned until he found a comfortable enough position on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow as he hugged it.

Sam was reading one of Andy's books. Without looking up from it, he asked Wendy, "Have you read these?"

"Yep, it's pretty hot," she answered, eating leftover pot roast. "Wait until you get to the naughty parts."

Sam raised an eyebrow at her, "In a werewolf book?"

"Oooh yeah... Just keep reading. It's pretty cool even without the steamy parts. What kinds of books are you into?"

He shrugged, "I like reading a little bit of everything, always want to learn something new. I liked classic lit alright."

"Classic lit? That's kinda hot. In a strange way." She grinned, "Talk nerdy to me."

"Uh..." Sam looked like he was trying to process how to approach this situation and hoped he didn't put himself on her radar. He gave his attention back to the book in his hands.

After almost half an hour, Andy could tell Dean had finally fallen asleep. She waited for the succubus to come, and she knew when it happened by the lamplight's flicker. She stood up beside the bed and watched Dean's eyelids twitch as he entered REM. When the sheets pressed into the bed around him, she tiptoed out to the hallway and waved Sam over. He grabbed his dad's journal and walked into the room with her. "I don't see it," he whispered.

"It's here."

The succubus was beginning to drain him and started to take shape as a hazy mist above him. The sigil under the bed couldn't prevent her from using her power, but it bound her there so she couldn't leave.

Sam quickly flipped to the page he'd marked and read the banishment ritual. "Jam tibi impero et præcipio maligne spiritus! ut confestim allata et circulo discedas, absque omni-" Dean let out a happy noise that made Sam lose his focus for a moment. "-strepito, terrore, clamore et foetore, asque sine omni damno mei tam animæ quam corporis, absque omni læsione cujuscunque creaturæ vel rei; et ad locum a justissimo tibi deputatum in momento et ictu oculi abeas; et hinc proripias."

The succubus panicked during his incantation but couldn't escape the confines of the circle drawn out beneath the bed. When he'd finished reading the ritual, she began to vibrate and dissipate. The lights in the room flickered as her energy surged before she disappeared. Wendy, who watched from the doorway, looked at them wide-eyed, "That was cool."

Sam turned to look at her, "Don't go casting any more spells or summoning any more evil entities."

Dean sat up and stretched, "Or we will find you."

Wendy looked at her feet again, "I won't."

Dean looked at them, "I didn't say anything embarrassing, did I?"

Andy grinned, "Nah."

Sam looked at Dean, "I'm going to take Wendy home. Should I come back...?" He knew the answer before he asked.

"No, go ahead and go back to the motel."

"I'm sorry, Andrea," Wendy looked at her.

Andy shrugged, "I can't forgive you. But I can agree to leave on amicable terms if you can."

"Yeah... okay." She went to wait by the front door.

Dean warned Sam, "Don't let her get a hold of any of your belongings or your hair."

Sam nodded, "This girl gives me the heebie jeebies."

Andy added, "And you're definitely her type."

Dean grinned, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Really."

Sam rolled his eyes, "See you in the morning. Oh, Andrea, do you mind if I borrow your werewolf book?"

"You can have it." She went over to the bookshelf in the front room and inscribed in the front cover: _Forgive the discrepancies in the lore! Thank you, Sam, for all your help. Take care of yourself and Dean. If you ever need anything, I'll do what I can for you! -Andrea. _

"Thanks," he smiled and opened the cover to read it when she handed it to him.

Wendy frowned, "I still have your vampire novel, where you wrote to me that we'd be old friends having wheelchair races at the nursing home."

Andy sighed, "Well... I can't predict the future. A lot has happened since then."

Sam smirked because he could imagine having wheelchair races with Dean. But he imagined Dean would cheat and put his cane through the spokes of his chair to slow him down. "Good night, Andy."

Dean was surprised they weren't having wheelchair races already.

"Night." She closed the door behind them after they left. She leaned against the bedroom doorway and she smiled at Dean lying in her bed.

"So, where did we leave off?"

She walked over, taking off her shoes, socks, and pants on her way to the bed, then climbed on top of him to straddle his waist again. "I was giving you a shoulder massage."

"Actually, I believe we were..." he placed his fingertips against her thighs and moved his hands up over her back as he pulled her down into a kiss, "doing this."

The next morning around eight o'clock, Sam called Dean. He reached up for his phone on the headboard, his eyes still closed. "What?"

"We have a job in Montana. Just got a call from a 'family friend.' We need to get going."

Dean became alert and started to sit up, but Andy was resting on his chest. "Now?"

"The sooner the better. I'm checking out of the motel right now, and I'll be on my way in a few minutes."

"Alright," he sighed and hung up, then looked down at Andy as she started to wake up. "Mind if I take a quick shower? Sam's on his way over."

She rolled off him and stretched, "Go ahead. I'll put on my pajamas." After taking his shower, Dean met Andy in her living room, where she was sipping a cup of coffee. She felt anxious, "You're leaving, aren't you?"

His phone went off with another guitar riff, and he answered Sam, "I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll walk you," Andy said, setting her cup down on the coffee table. She handed him his duffle bag.

"I didn't expect us to have to go so soon."

She closed the door to her apartment behind them and walked with him down the hall to hit the elevator button. The doors opened and they stepped inside, the G button already aglow even though they were alone. "Well, this week has been quite the adventure for me. I'm guessing it's just a usual workday for you."

"How are you feeling about all this? It's not weirding you out knowing all this crap is real? It can be a lot to take in in such a short time."

"I already believed in spirits and demons, so it's not like my whole world has been shattered. The werewolves are a bit of a surprise though."

"I'm glad you're adjusting well, and I don't have to worry about you losing it," he said, walking out with her as the elevator doors slid open.

She stopped at the curb where Sam had parked the impala and hesitated, "I saw the mileage on your car. You're on the road a lot, don't really get to stick around in one place for too long, right?"

"There's always someone somewhere who needs our help. We don't get a lot of down time."

"Must meet a lot of girls..." She bit her lip as he looked at her apprehensively, like he was sure he was treading dangerous waters by saying anything in response. She continued, glancing at Sam through the back window, as she rocks on her heels, "I was just wondering... if I'd see you again after this."

Dean opened the trunk, blocking Sam from view. "I'd like to see you again, but..." he sighed, "this job takes us all over the country." He remembered Cassie saying she didn't see much of a future between them and knew that was a realistic point of view. It was because of his lifestyle. He set the bag down in the trunk. "You wouldn't want to wait around for me anyway, trust me."

She stepped off the curb and took his hand, looking down at it. "I dated a marine once. I don't mind the wait if it's worth it. I think you are." She looked up at him, hoping he might change his mind.

He smiled, but he was concerned. "You think it would work? Marines... they're back home on a schedule."

"We won't know unless we try. Until I see you again, we have phones and email. I just... hope you wouldn't turn to the Tammys of the world while you're out there."

He smirked, "So, you're asking me to be your boyfriend?"

She swallowed hard, feeling rather silly for asking, considering they'd only met two days ago. But she really liked him, and she'd never had a one night stand before.

"Okay." Dean studied her, "I like you. I mean, I like-like you."

She chuckled, "Good. I like-like you too. And if you didn't check yes, then I'd have been the laughing stock of the schoolyard."

He closed the trunk with a grin, "Nah. Everyone would probably tease me for being a complete idiot if I passed you up."

"Yeah, definitely." She hugged him and kissed his cheek, relieved he didn't reject her.

He hugged her back, "We're going to Minnesota. I'll update you if we end up heading in another direction."

"Okay."

He gave her one more kiss on the lips before she took a step back to let him go. She waved at Sam who was watching them in the rearview mirror, and he raised his hand back in acknowledgment. "Be safe out there."

He winked, "That's me." He walked around to the passenger side and stuck his hand out the window with a wave goodbye as they drove off.


	2. Maneater

Maneater | **43**

_**Disclaimer:**__ This is a work of fanfiction using characters from CW's Supernatural. I am not affiliated with CW nor do I claim ownership of any part of Supernatural. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported to be canon._

_Song Credits: Hall and Oates - Maneater, Nelly Furtado - Maneater, Madonna - Secret, ELO - Rock N Roll is King, Katrina and the Waves - Walking on Sunshine, Q Lazzarus - Goodbye Horses_

_Note: This chapter takes place in Season 1 after episode 16 and before episode 19, probably in September 2006. _

**Supernatural**

**Chapter 2**

**"Maneater"**

"She was nice," Sam said as they left San Diego for Minnesota. He rolled the driver side window down and rested his elbow on the open frame. It was the end of May, but it felt like the middle of July.

"Yeah, she was."

A moment of silence passed before Sam glanced over at him, "You liked her."

Dean gave him a shrug, keeping his eyes on the road.

"You're a real heart breaker, Dean," Sam said, shaking his head.

Dean reached over to turn on the music.

When they arrived in Hibbing, Minnesota a few days later to investigate some mysterious disappearances, Dean opened the trunk to retrieve his duffle bag and found one of Andy's books inside, inscribed:_ I hope to see you again, and I wish you the best, whatever happens. - Andrea _ He sent her a text saying: _Thanks._

Their relationship was only a few days old, but they exchanged text messages when Sam was driving, and Andy wrote him emails to read in his free time. She waited for an answer before writing the next one; she understood that he was busy and had the impression he wouldn't like to be smothered. Dean wasn't accustomed to writing long winded emails, so he kept his short. He was hoping to keep his long distance relationship a secret from Sam for as long as he could.

After finishing the job in Minnesota, Sam and Dean moved around the east side, from Illinois to Texas and Wisconsin. It was August before they had any free time between jobs. Dean called Andy every so often when Sam was out, but that didn't happen as often as she would have liked. While she was eager to get to know him better, she could be patient. She was keeping herself busy with her next novel, and she was accustomed to solitude.

"So," Sam started, looking over at Dean when he took his phone out to read a text on their way out of Wisconsin. "You still talking to her?"

"Hm?" Dean played dumb, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Dean, I'm not stupid. You never text people. You have a beer, you take a nap, you look at a magazine, you never text."

Dean looked out the window, "It's not a big deal."

"Sure," Sam nodded dismissively. "Thinking of getting back with her after we kill this thing?"

Dean inhaled, thinking about it. He hadn't honestly given it much thought. It was nice to have a girl, but he knew it was dangerous and just didn't suit his lifestyle with always being on the move. In the end, she would just end up hurt. He wondered if he should have just left and never looked back. Some times were harder than others.

"Dean," Sam brought him back to attention, "after we kill the demon, you should."

"Should what?"

"Get back with her. You know, enjoy a normal life for once."

He scoffed, "Normal. Please, Sammy, we both know I'll never be normal. Neither will you. We're hunters. It's in our blood."

"So, then, what?"

"What do you mean what?"

"What are you doing with her?"

"Sexting."

Sam looked at him, disbelieving, "What? Ew. Really?"

Dean smirked, "Not yet."

Sam looked back at the road, "Gross, don't do that in the car."

"What, it's not like I'm actually getting naked."

Sam shook his head, "Well, you haven't called her. You're just texting each other?"

Dean hesitated, reluctant to answer, "...and email."

Sam stifled a smirk, "Next you'll be webcamming."

"Shut up. It's my turn to drive, pull over."

It was another month later, in the middle of September, before Andy called Dean over the phone. He hesitated before picking up, keeping his eyes on the road. Sam was asleep in the passenger seat, and they were on their way from New York to Colorado. "Andy?"

"Hey. Is this a bad time?"

He looked thoughtful and glanced over at Sam. "No."

"I didn't want to bother you guys when you're looking for your dad-"

"We found him."

"Oh." She wondered why he hadn't mentioned it before. "That's great. So, you're all working together now?"

"Nah, he's off on his own again. It's just me and Sammy."

She decided not to ask what happened. "Well, I think I found something else that could use your expertise."

He could hear her smile over the phone, piquing his curiosity, "Oh, yeah? What'd you find?"

"Okay, you've seen the news about people eating other people's faces, right?"

"That homeless guy in Florida?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, there've been more cases. They've been reporting it as being under the influence of bath salts, even though some of the crazies that were caught didn't have any drugs in their system, aside from pot. I think there's more to it than a violent case of the munchies. Reading online, there are a lot of people going on about the zombie apocalypse, but there are creatures and demons out there that like eating people, aside from crazy hillbillies and zombies."

"And you have an idea of what it might be?"

"I've made a list of possible creatures. Not sure how many of them actually exist though."

He mulled it over, nodding, "Well, the Florida guy is old news. Any fresh bodies?"

"Yep. Two in Utah, both within the last four days."

"Great. Cannibalistic Mormons. This should be fun."

"Are you going to go?"

"It's not too far out of the way. Send me everything you've got."

"How about I just meet you there?" she asked casually, masking her hope that he wouldn't shoot her down.

"Are you sure about that? It's not exactly a thirty-minute drive for you, and then there's the whole face eating thing."

"I can be there by morning."

Dean cast another glance at Sam, then looked at the road, "Okay, call me when you get there, and we'll meet up."

"Will do. Drive safe."

Andy grabbed her notes, her laptop, and her overnight bag before stopping by Starbucks and hitting the road to Utah. When she arrived in Ephraim at 5 A.M., she texted Dean the address to the Starbucks she was sitting inside. She waited for a couple hours, sipping her coffee and reading on her laptop, before Sam and Dean showed up.

"I thought we were going to Colorado," Sam said, looking over at Dean.

"Yeah, well, we might have a job here."

"What kind of job?" Sam brushed his hair back with his hand and popped his neck. "Ghost? Demon?"

"Don't know yet, but it seems to be related to those cases of people flipping out and having a craving for human face."

"When did you get this tip, anyway?"

"While you were napping, Sunshine. Andy called."

"Andy?" Sam nodded, "Hm."

Dean pursed his lips, looking at him with narrowed eyes, not sure what that 'Hm' meant. "What do you think it is? Think it's actual Romero zombies this time?"

"Probably not but could be." Sam looked up at the sign as they parked. "Starbucks?"

Dean shrugged, got out of the car, and walked inside. Andy looked up when they walked in and closed her laptop as she stood up, happy to see them, "Hey, guys."

Dean lifted his hand in a wave as he walked over. Sam returned a groggy smile and went to sit down, "Morning."

Andy looked at Dean, not sure if she should kiss him because they hadn't seen each other in five months. She rocked on her heels, "How was the drive?"

"The drive was as good as it can get with Sam snoring in my ear," Dean reached out, placing a hand on her hip as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss.

Andy returned his affection, relieved it felt natural. "Want anything to drink?"

"Coffee," Sam said, resting his head in his hands. "I overslept."

Andy walked past Dean, brushing her hand against his, "What about you?"

"Black," he smiled down at her before taking a seat beside Sam. She bought two coffees and another caramel macchiato for herself, then returned to the table and set them down before taking a seat at the small, round table to face them. "Thanks. So, have you found a place to stay yet?" Dean asked.

"Nope. I got here a couple hours ago, but I figured I'd just stay at the same place you guys pick."

"You might want a nice hotel," Sam warned. "We tend to find the cheapest motel we can."

Dean scoffed, "Hey, I still have standards."

Sam nodded, "Okay, I didn't mean we stay in by-the-hour places with drug deals going down next door. I just mean there's a lot nicer accommodations out there."

Andy chuckled, "I don't mind cheap digs."

"Builds character," Dean smirked. "We sometimes get TV's that still have rabbit ears."

"And mystery stains on the blankets?"

Sam snickered and admitted with a sigh, "Sometimes."

Andy thought about it and realized with all their moving around and without being paid for hunting, they still had to make money for gas and rent. They were obviously skilled conmen, posing as police officers and whatever else they needed to fit the bill. She wasn't going to ask about it though, not now at least. She sipped her coffee and put her laptop away, then pulled a folder out of her bag and set it on the table between them. "Okay, so here's that list I made. Don't make fun of me too much if I missed a bunch of things you guys already know about."

Sam pushed the list over to Dean so he could make space on the small table for his laptop.

"Long list," Dean said, looking it over.

"Sorry I couldn't narrow it down more."

"No, that's good. I mean, it means you really did your homework."

"I already crossed out a bunch of the names on my list too. The victims weren't children, so I crossed out the baby eaters."

Sam looked up from his screen as it booted up, "Lovely."

"Yeah, here's hoping I don't ever run into one of those. I don't know much about the victims yet, but reading their obituaries, they were all around the same age - in their twenties, all male, and all Mormon."

Dean stopped at a monster on the list, "What's a yara-ma-yha-who?"

"Oh, I crossed that one out..."

"Yeah, but what is it?"

"Some Australian thing that hangs out in fig trees," she shrugged. She'd crossed it out because she pulled it from a Cracked article.

Sam smirked, "Because Australians don't have enough to worry about already."

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Ass-wang?"

"Aswang. Yeah, I think that's a possibility, even though they like eating babies too. They're shapeshifters that tend to be 'quiet, shy and elusive.'"

"Ugh, shapeshifters. Pain in my ass." Dean continued down the list, "Wendigo. We just dealt with one of those a few months ago too."

"Let me see that list," Sam held out his hand and looked it over when Dean gave it to him. "Wouldn't be a valravn or a werewolf. They eat hearts, not faces." He crossed them off the list. "Ew, a kappa."

Dean looked at him, surprised he knew it, "What's a kappa?"

"The kappa is something out of Japanese legend. They like to hang out in rivers and ponds, waiting to drag victims under the water... where they sometimes like to pull their guts out of their butts."

"Come again?" He grimaced in disgust, "Frickin' Japanese, man."

"Apparently they like to eat livers and other body parts too, so I didn't rule it out," Andy added.

Sam crossed it out anyway, "I think it's safe to rule that one out because it's always a water spirit."

Dean leaned over in his chair to look at the list again, "Black Anus? Is anyone being skinned?"

"Black Annis," Sam corrected him.

Andy shook her head, "I'm not sure. I figured you'd take a look-see at the morgue."

"What's the Black Annis do again?" Sam asked.

"Makes skirts out of human skin," Andy answered.

"Like a female Buffalo Bill," Dean smirked and sang off key, "_Goodbye horses, I'm lying over you._"

"Gross." Sam looked at the list, "So, that leaves the kishi, penanggalan, preta, and rakshasa."

"Preta, that's the hungry ghost, right?" Dean took the list back.

"I think so."

"That could be the one if it was an excessively vain person. Cursed to eat faces?"

"Makes sense."

Andy rested her elbows on the table and chimed in, "I think the Penanggalan is the scariest of them all."

Dean looked a little bit concerned, "Why?"

"Well, not just by the description but also because it has seven different names in different countries, which is more than I could find on any other creature. I'm convinced that nasty thing actually exists."

Sam typed it up and read, "'According to the folklore of that region, the Penanggalan is a detached female head capable of flying about on its own. As it flies, the stomach and entrails dangle below it, and these organs twinkle like fireflies as the Penanggalan moves through the night.'"

Dean scoffed, "'Twinkling'? A flying head with entrails 'twinkling' in the night might be hard to miss. We should probably cross that one out." He took a sip of Andy's coffee to give it a try and made an expression that said 'not bad.'

Andy peered over at the paper, "If you find the culprit and she smells like vinegar, you'll be uncrossing that one."

"What if she smells like vinegar and it just turns out to be woman problems?" Dean challenged.

"Ew, what kind of woman problems smell like vinegar?"

"Women with... you know what? Nevermind."

"It also says it drinks blood," Sam added.

Andy shrugged, "Well, you can't get to the blood without tearing off the face, right?"

"That's one way of doing it, I guess." Dean smirked, "Maybe we're dealing with the spirit of Jeffrey Dahmer?"

Andy sipped her coffee, "You know, I hadn't thought to list dead cannibals."

After a moment, Sam dismissed the idea, "He was from Wisconsin anyway. What about Albert Fish?"

Andy shook her head, "He died in Sing Sing."

"How do you even know that?"

"Same way you know about Dahmer being from Wisconsin."

Sam glanced down at his laptop then back at her, "Google?"

"I was thinking 'too much time on my hands and a fascination with the macabre.'"

Dean smirked, "Kids, kids, let's get back to work. What about this Kishi thing? Sounds Japanese. Please don't let it be a Japanese spirit that eats faces and wears the genitals of its victims as a necklace." He caught a guy at the table beside them staring. "...We're working on a script."

Andy shook her head, "It originates in Angola, actually. I call it Two-Face. It has a hyena's face in the back of its head that eats people."

Sam knitted his brow, "I'm gonna be skeptical on that one too. I think we're dealing with a hungry ghost or an Aswang. But we won't know for sure until we do some digging."

Dean smirked, "Ass-wang..."

Andy finished off her coffee, "How can I help?"

Dean thought about a safe task for her to perform, "You can gather all the details you can on the victims. Maybe family histories, connections to any groups. Sam and I will go do our thing starting with the morgue."

She wasn't sure how to go about obtaining family histories without interviewing them, but she'd do whatever she could in the meantime. She was pretty sure he was just giving her busy work to keep her out of the way, and she was okay with that. "Okay. Well, they are all connected to the Church of LSD."

Sam stifled a laugh, "LSD?"

"I mean LDS. Latter Day Saints."

Dean grinned, "Mass would be fun to watch at a Church of LSD."

Sam closed his laptop and stood up, "We should go find a motel and change into our suits."

Andy followed them in her car to a Motel 6 a few blocks away and paid for a room beside theirs. It had been a long time since she'd stayed in a motel, but this one looked as generic as they come. Cream colored, blank walls, a blue bedspread with an ugly crisscross pattern on it, and a grimy beige telephone with giant gray block buttons. She took a power nap while they changed into their suits. The sound of the impala's muffler as they drove away woke her fifteen minutes later, and she opened her laptop to get to work. She didn't want to be empty handed when they came back.

Dean and Sam walked into the morgue where the medical examiner was standing over a body laid out on a table. The body no longer had a face. Dean nudged Sam, "Looks like he just stared at the ark of the covenant."

Sam elbowed Dean and smiled cordially at the examiner when he looked up from the body.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

"Agent White," Sam said, holding up his badge. "And-"

"Agent Snake," Dean smiled, ignoring the look Same gave him. "We're with the FBI, and we're here for that guy." Dean looked at the faceless man again.

The medical examiner took a closer look at their badges and shrugged, "You guys don't really think there's a bath salts zombie thing brewing here, do you? We've had reporters coming by to ask about it. It's absurd."

"That's what we're here to find out," Dean answered.

"We highly doubt it's zombies," Sam added reassuringly. He pointed at the files behind him, assuming they belonged to the victim, "Can I see those?"

"Sure," the examiner handed him the files.

Dean leaned over the body for a closer look and smiled, amused with himself, "Maybe there's some kind of whacko Mormon sect who takes the whole flesh of Christ thing to a whole new level?"

"I think you're thinking of Catholics," Sam said without looking up from the file.

"Did you two want to see the other body?" the examiner asked, walking over to open the door and slide the table out.

"Sure, why not?" Dean shrugged.

Sam looked surprised, "You still have it here?"

The examiner pulled the sheet back, "Yeah, same thing. Face was eaten."

"So, how did they actually die? I mean, losing your face skin is traumatic, but it wouldn't necessarily kill you."

The examiner opened the victim's mouth. "Whoever attacked these people ate their tongues too. They probably bled to death."

"I thought bleeding out from biting off the tongue was a myth."

"There is also blunt force trauma to the head. It's in the report," the examiner pointed to the pages in Sam's hands, "It could have knocked him out long enough for it to happen."

Dean took the files from Sam, "But the trauma isn't what did 'em in?"

"Nope," the examiner walked back over to the first body and pulled the sheets up over his feet, "This one wasn't hit over the head at all. Whatever it was went for his Achilles tendon. I think it was an animal attack, but we're not ruling anything out."

Sam furrowed his brow, examining the back of the leg, "So, why are they running with the bath salts explanation?"

"The damage to the face is pretty similar to the other cases that have been popping up around the nation."

"And China," Dean added.

"Really?" the examiner looked surprised and shrugged. "It's hard to say what bit him though. It's certainly not a bear, there would be hardly anything left if it were. And it doesn't look like dog bites either, though that's possible. I'd almost say it looks more like a giant feline, but I'm no zoologist, and there are no scratch marks on the rest of his body. Or bite marks for that matter-"  
"Are you sure they're bite marks?" Dean asked, "Maybe somebody just took a cheese grater to his face."

Sam grimaced at the thought.

The examiner motioned them to look closer, and they both leaned in apprehensively. "You can see the teeth marks if you look carefully. These punctures here, here... here."

"Okay, you're the expert," Dean said, standing up straight and clearing his throat. "Can we keep these reports?"

"Yes, those are copies."

Sam asked, "Do you have the police report for the first victim?"

"Oh, right. His family wouldn't speak with the police. Very private bunch. The autopsy report is in there though."

Dean looked incredulous, "What kind of people don't talk to the police after their kid is murdered?"

Sam cleared his throat, giving Dean a look.

"Maybe we should have a word with them and see if they open up to us."

The examiner shook his head, "From what I hear, they've locked themselves inside their house and only speak to people from their church." He shrugged, "Some people grieve in different ways."

"Thanks for your time," Sam nodded with a smile and left with Dean. As they sat in the impala, Sam looked at Dean, "Maybe Andrea can come in and help us with this one."

"I was just thinking the same thing. There's no way I'm dressing up like a Mormon." He dialed Andy.

She saw Dean on the caller ID and answered, "Hey, how did things go at the morgue?"

"We don't know what it was yet, but we found out that the family of one of the victims has clammed up and isn't talking to the police."

"So, they have to be hiding something."

"Could be. We were thinking you could take that one. You know, pose as a friend from the church." He winked at Sam.

Andy thought about it and scoffed, "No way. And pass up seeing you two dressed like Mormons?"

"Hey, you wanted to be involved-"

"I don't feel left out," she grinned. "I'm doing valuable research. And now I need to procure your costumes."

Dean frowned, "I'm not wearing the magic underwear."

"I don't think I'm good enough to get a hold of temple garments anyway."

Sam knitted his brows, "We're not gonna have to... are we?"

Dean tried one last ditch effort to get her to do it, "We'd make better time if you went and talked to that family while we check out the other one."

"I'm already in my car on my way to the store right now to get you a couple white shirts and backpacks," she lied, on the way out of her motel room. "Not sure where to get the missionary name tags though. I guess I could just mosey into a Mormon church and steal some."

Dean shrugged, giving in. It was just another disguise, no big deal. "Don't get arrested."

"By the way, I couldn't find anything on family histories; I wasn't sure where to look that up. But I did find a Facebook page for Jacob. He changed his relationship status to engaged the day he was killed, and nobody knew who the lucky girl was."

"Good job. That's something we can work with. We'll meet you back at the motel when we're done." They found the address listed in the report for Jacob, their second victim, and went to investigate his family.

As they stepped out of the car, Sam looked at Dean over the roof of the impala with a look of concern. "Dean..."

"What?"

"Don't make any polygamy jokes."

"C'mon. That would be too easy. Give me some credit." He walked with him up to the front door and knocked.

A forty-something year old man in a polo shirt and khakis answered the door and looked back and forth between them. They flashed their badges and introduced themselves, but the man looked perturbed, "I already answered all the questions the police had."

"Different department," Dean clarified. "We're FBI."

Sam added with a sympathetic look, "We'll only be a moment, sir. It could really help with our investigation."

The man opened the door wider and sighed, "Come in."

Dean looked around the spacious house as he walked in, the skylight in the living room giving it a warm glow. "What can you tell us about your son?"

The man led them to the living room couch, and they each took a seat across from him. "He was a bright boy, he enjoyed school, he loved his church and God. He just came back from his mission last month."

"His mission? Where did that take him?" Sam asked.

"Texas."

Dean took out his notepad, even though Sam had already started scribbling down notes. "What church was he a member of and did he have any enemies there?"

"Oh... he's in the 7th ward, and he goes to the church of Latter Day Saints on Center street, by the college. He was going to return to school... but he didn't have any enemies. Certainly not from church."

Dean scribbled down the information and looked up at him, "Did you notice anything strange like the smell of sulfur or maybe people with blacked out eyes-"

Sam interrupted, thinking Dean might have been taking too aggressive an approach, "Did Jacob mention anything odd at all?"

Jacob's dad looked at Dean suspiciously, "He didn't mention anything strange, no. He did fall in love though, and he was going to ask her to marry him. It's not uncommon for boys to come back from their mission and want to settle down, but we never did have a chance to meet her." He frowned, shaking his head, "She hasn't come by to talk to us about it either."

Dean was skeptical but hoped they had a way of contacting her. "Did this mystery girl have a name? We have some questions for her."

"He said her name was Merrill. We don't know anything else about her though."

Sam asked gently, "When was the last time you saw him before his death?"

"Dinner time on Monday, then he went out to see some friends. Or at least that's what he told us. He might have been going to see her."

"Is there any reason he would lie about going to see her?"

"We discouraged them seeing each other late at night on the weekends, just in case... well, you know..."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "In case they got a little carried away?"

"Yes. We believe in chastity before marriage."

"Did he say where he would be going with these friends?"

"No, he didn't, but the police said they..." he frowned, struggling with the words, "found his body... at the college stadium." He took a deep, shaky breath to keep his composure. "He wasn't much of a sports fan, but I don't know which of his friends are. His only friends that I know of all attend the same church."

"Down at the stadium and not a sports fan, huh? He probably was with that girl."

Sam exchanged looks with Dean as he took down the information. "I think we've got enough information. Thank you for your time, and... we're sorry for your loss."

Jacob's dad stood to see them out, "Thank you. I hope you catch whoever did this."

In the car, Sam looked through his notes, "We should check out the church, see if anyone knows Merrill. It's on Center street-"

"On it," Dean said, hitting the accelerator. He opened his phone to dial Andy for an update as he headed toward the church.

Andy held her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she lifted up a bike to put into the trunk of her car, "What's up?"

"We just got done waterboarding a Mormon for information. How are things with you?"

"Great, I'm picking up your props as we speak."

"Props? We're not putting on some kind of theatre presentation, are we?"

"Hey, thanks to the work I put into getting you these things, you are going to be so convincing that no one could possibly doubt your Mormonism, even if you crack a polygamy joke."

Dean looked at Sam, "Why does everyone expect me to crack a polygamy joke? I don't know how authentic you're getting, but I'm not wearing the magic underwear."

"I know, I know. I don't think they could see it under your clothes anyway. At least, I'd hope not. Oh, shit, gotta go." She quickly hung up and ran around to the driver's seat when she saw a guy come out of a Corner Bakery with his bicycle helmet on.

Dean hung up and turned to Sam, "She's getting us props, and by the sound of her voice, I don't think she's buying them."

"Really?" Sam smirked and looked at him, "You're dating a criminal."

Dean shrugged, "I have no problem with this. I guess that means she fits right in."

"Not denying it."

They parked in the small parking lot beside the church and walked inside. When they opened the doors, they interrupted a bishop during his sermon, and a few people in the back row turned to look at them. They shuffled awkwardly into the back pew and took a seat until it was over. As people were clearing out, Sam and Dean walked up to the front to speak with the bishop. "Agent White and Agent Snake," Dean introduced them. "Mind giving us a moment of your time to answer some questions?"

"Anything you need. What can I do for you?"

"I'm sure you know about the death and possible murder of Jacob. We were wondering if you could tell us if you might have noticed anything strange?"

"Strange like what?"

Sam shook his head, "Just anything out of the ordinary. Was he nervous about anything?"

"Nervous? Gosh, no, he was maybe more happy than usual. But I hardly see that as a bad thing."

"We were told he had a new girlfriend named Merrill, but his family hadn't met her. Is she a member of this church? We'd like to speak to her."

"Merrill? I don't know about that, but I've seen him with Sandra. She's new to the church, but she was dating another boy that she met in the youth singles ward."

Dean stifled a smirk, "Merrill and Sandra? He's a bit young to be practicing polygamy, isn't he?"

Sam stifled a groan and looked at Dean, then forced a polite smile at the bishop, "What's the name of this other boy? And do you know where Sandra is right now?"

The bishop shook his head, "I haven't seen Sandra since Jacob died. I saw her with David though. I can give you his address, he might know where to find her."

"That would be a big help, thanks."

Dean scribbled the address down, "Hopefully David can point us to where one of these mystery ladies is at."

Sam nodded to the bishop, "That's all. We'll be back if we need to follow up with more questions."

"All right. Say... how did you two like the sermon?"

"Oh, it was riveting," Dean smiled. "My partner here especially enjoyed it and is considering joining the Mormon church."

Sam forced another smile and nodded as he didn't want to be rude. "We'd better get back to work though."

The bishop was no stranger to sarcasm and smiled politely back, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

As Sam was walking out with Dean, he looked at him, "You're a real jerk, you know that?"

"I'm a loveable jerk." He turned his head as a couple of Mormon girls walked by and smirked as they smiled at him. "Mormon girls dress like that? No wonder they can lure these guys in so easily."

Sam shook his head, "Believe it or not, they're still pretty much regular people."

"Yeah, they just don't have any fun. No alcohol or coffee. No sex. They probably aren't allowed to listen to good music either." He pointed at him, "Wait til we find out they're really a secret Mormon cannibal church. I know what these people can get like. I've seen Footloose."

Sam smirked at a thought, "Are you going to angry dance?"

Dean thought about it for a second, "I don't think I can get that drunk."

When they reached David's house, Sam rang the doorbell, and a young man, possibly still in his teens, answered the door with a wide smile. "Hi! How are you?"

"I, uh..." Sam stammered, "I'm fine. I'm Agent White, this is Agent Snake. Are you David?"

"Wow, your name is Snake? That is so cool," he grinned. "Yeah, I'm David. What can I do for you?"

Dean exchanged looks with Sam, "You seem awfully chipper today."

"Do I?" he sighed happily, "That's probably because I'm in love. Have you ever been in love, Agent Snake?"

Sam looked at Dean and feigned genuine curiosity, "Yeah, have you? What's it like?"

Dean hesitated, trying to come up with an answer as they both stared at him expectantly, "Well, it's like, uh... walking on sunshine. On a cloudy day."

Sam looked at him, "Really? Is that the best you could do?"

"That's beautiful!" David looked at him in awe, "You, sir, are a poet."

Sam looked at the boy, "Seriously?"

"Focus, Sammy." Dean looked at David, "Is this girl you're in love with named Sandra or Merrill?"

"Her name is Christina, and she's the love of my life, and I'm going to marry her."

"Christina?" Dean pulled out his notepad and wrote it down. "Why don't you tell us what she's like? Personality, looks... sulfuric smell?"

"Oh, I wrote a poem about her. Want to hear it?"

Sam exchanged looks with Dean, "Sure..."

David cleared his throat and recited his poem:

_Your hair flows like a black river of tar_

_Down the valley that is your back_

_I long to kiss your luscious lips_

_and place my hands upon your child bearing hips_

_as we slow dance._

"It's not finished yet," he added quickly. "But she's the prettiest girl I ever saw."

Dean stifled a laugh and smiled, "I'm sure that will just charm the pants right off of her child bearing hips."

"Oh, no, I would never try to... you know, before marriage."

"Do you have a picture of her by any chance?"

"Oh, no, she's very camera shy."

Sam looked at his notes and a poor doodle of her likeness, "But she has long black hair, wide hips, and 'luscious lips'? Any other defining features? Scars or tattoos, maybe?"

"Tattoos?" David laughed, "Oh, my girl is an angel, she would never tarnish her beautiful body."

Sam gave him an understanding nod, "Well, we need to speak with her. Could you arrange a-"

"Oh, no, I don't think so," David interrupted with a grin and pointed at him, "Wouldn't want a man in uniform trying to woo my girl away from me. Then, we couldn't be friends anymore."

Sam cleared his throat and looked at Dean anxiously.

Dean gave him a reassuring nod and pointed at him, "Don't worry about that. I've already got a girl, and my partner is gay. Elton John after his bicurious days gay."

Sam looked at Dean with an unamused glare.

"Oh. OH," David looked at Sam. "You know, you really should change your ways and find God. That's why you haven't been in love before. You need to meet a wonderful woman-"

Sam interrupted him, "Okay, that's enough. There isn't anything wrong with being gay, not that I am gay. Now, tell us where we can find her-"

"No!" David slammed the door.

Dean was taken aback by the abrupt end to their exchange and looked at Sam as if it were his fault. "Way to go, Sam, you really blew it there." He knocked on the door hard, just short of pounding on it.

"Me?" Sam looked incredulous, "You're the one who threw 'gay' out there!"

David yelled through the door, "No, and I mean no!"

Dean used his charming tone of voice, "C'mon, David, I meant he was gay as in happy. Like you. Come out and talk to us."

Sam scoffed, "Really, Dean? You think that's going to work after you just said-"

David cracked the door open, "I'm not telling you where she is. I'm going to propose to her tonight, and we're going to get married at the temple!"

Sam could see Dean ready to push the door in and grab the boy by his shirt to bully the answer out of him, but he knew it wouldn't work, so he interjected, "Where are you proposing to her? I mean, atmosphere is everything when you pop the question."

"I haven't decided yet. Where would you do it, Agent Snake?"

Sam muttered under his breath, "Vegas."

"Of course not Vegas. I would choose some place nice and romantic. Liiike a park," he looked at David for a reaction.

"Ohh, all alone, under the night sky. That's a good idea. But it's kind of cold out at night. I'll probably go somewhere else. I gotta go get ready! Need to shower and shave! Bye, guys!" David closed the door before either of them could stop him.

"Hey, wait-" Sam knocked on the door, but David didn't answer. He threw his hands up, "That kid was creepy."

"Very," Dean shrugged and turned to walk back to the impala parked on the street. "Well, I guess we can always follow him later."

"Should we check out Brian's family? Maybe they know something else."

"I'll call Andy." Dean sat behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition as he dialed her. "Hey, we're on our way back to the motel."

"Great, I have everything you need to go undercover."

"...Great. See you in a few."

Sam rolled down the window as they drove across town back to the motel. "So, we're looking at something that puts people under some kind of love spell but also eats faces? Could it be a witch, instead of a spirit? Maybe a succubus?"

"I don't know. Succubi don't eat faces. What about that list of things Andy compiled?"

Sam opened the file with the list and profiles for her suspected creatures. "Well, we were going with the hungry ghost or the aswang as the likely culprits, but we didn't cross out Kishi or the flying head thing. I'd add cannibal-witch to the list, just in case. The hungry ghost wouldn't have the power to influence people like that, it would just have an insatiable craving for human flesh."

"What do we know about the Kishi? I don't think I've ever run into one of those. Not sure dad did either. We could also be dealing with a coven of cannibal witches."

Sam read the notes Andy printed out. "Well, 'Two-face' apparently is charming and attractive on one side and has the face of a hyena on the back of its head that eats people."

"Charming and attractive. But a hyena?" he thought about it. "Sounds like something out of a cheesy horror flick, but I think it just moved up on the list."

"Yeah, I'm not sure which is worse, but at least if it's Two-face, it's just one person, not a coven."

"Unless they travel in packs," Dean looked at him.

Sam furrowed his brow, "Good point. Hyenas do travel in clans."

Dean sighed, "Well, that's just great."

"But Kishi are still more human than hyena, so, who knows? I think we'd have run into them sooner if there were a bunch of them instead of a few isolated cases."

Dean pulled up to the parking spot in front of their room and knocked on Andy's door. She opened it to let them in and handed them their backpacks, nametags, and shirts when they walked in. "I guessed your shirt sizes. Sam, you have long arms."

He looked at it and held it up against himself to see if she chose the right size, "I'm not really sure how to respond to that."

She grinned, "If it makes you feel better, I have monkey arms myself."

Dean chuckled, looking at Sam, "You have monkey arms."

Sam shook his head and turned around, surprised to see two bicycles against the wall he hadn't noticed before. "Where did you get those?"

"I borrowed them... from a shopping center downtown."

Dean looked at the bikes, "What? No. No way."

"Come on, guys, play the part. There is no way they'd believe you if you drove up. Have you ever seen missionaries drive? No."

Sam thought about it, hoping to disprove her point. "You must be a method actor."

Dean examined the bikes, "We don't have to wear helmets, do we?"

"Of course you do, law abiding citizen." She plucked the helmet off the handlebar and handed it to him with a grin.

"You are a sadist. If you bring out elbow and knee pads next, this is not happening," Dean warned.

She held her hands up, "Don't worry, I have my limits too. You're all set."

Sam had a reluctant, tortured look on his face, "Dean, I don't want to do this..."

"Let's just get it over with. Get changed."

"Fine."

After they put on their Mormon attire, they took their bikes outside. Andy followed them in her car on their way to the family's house at a safe distance. Dean stood up and pedaled faster when he saw the street coming up. "Last one there is a rotten egg, Sammy!"

"What? Hey!" Sam pedaled faster, but his pedal became stuck when his shoelace was caught and tied up in it. "What the-ack." He hit the hand brakes and stopped to try to untie his shoelace, but it was wound too tight. "Damn." He took out his pocket knife and cut the lace, then looked over to see Andy's car stopped beside him. She was looking out the passenger window to make sure everything was okay while snapping a picture with her phone. "Really?" he looked at her in disbelief.

She gave him a guilty grin and drove ahead to park down the street from the house.

Dean brought his bike to a screeching halt, huffing and puffing. He looked back in time to see Andy parking behind him along the curb. "You're enjoying this way too much."

She stuck her head out the window and grinned, "You're adorable." She took a picture of him with her phone before he could take his helmet off. "I do hope you keep your Mormon nametags in your stash of ID's."

"That better not go up on the internet," he pointed at her. "And I'll keep them as a reminder of you stealing a bunch of crap from a church for us."

"Man, now that you say it out loud, I feel like I'm going to Hell."

"Heh," he smirked, "Hang around long enough with us and you might just earn enough brownie points to keep you out of it." He looked back to see Sam coming up behind them and looked down at his shoe. "What happened to your shoelace?"

"...It got stuck." He stepped off the bike and let it fall on its side.

Dean hit the kickstand and set the bike upright before walking up to the doorstep. "Put your game face on, Sammy. We've got to be fake Mormons."

"I'm guessing I'm waiting in the car?" Andy asked.

"Yup." Dean knocked on the door and whispered to Sam, "You wanna be good Mormon or bad Mormon?"

Sam sighed, "Oh, God."

Brian's mother, a short, frail woman, looked through the peephole. When she saw they were good church boys, she unlocked and opened the door. "Hello!"

"Hello, ma'am," Sam smiled, "I'm, uh..."

Dean glanced at his nametag, "Jaime."

"And this is-"

"Kyle," Dean said with a friendly smile. "We were friends of Brian."

Sam looked sympathetic, "We came to offer our condolences."

His mother put her hand over her heart as if they'd touched her down to her very core, "Oh, the church has been so good to our family in our time of need." She looked around and waved them in, "Come inside before the police and the media come swarming."

Sam walked inside ahead of Dean. "What a lovely home you have." He noticed there were a lot of religious prints and crosses on the bright yellow walls.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, it's very... Jesusy."

Brian's mother led them into the kitchen where a paper plate of fresh baked cookies were set on the table. "Please, have a seat and help yourself." She walked over to the refrigerator to pour them some milk. As Dean reached for a cookie, Sam slapped his hand.

Sam smiled at Brian's mother when she turned around, and Dean wiped the scowl off his face. "So, Brian," Sam said gently, "we really miss him. He had a girlfriend, didn't he? Have you seen her since it happened?"

"Yes, he did or so he told us. He couldn't stop talking about her, but he never introduced us to her."

"When did he start talking about her?"

"Maybe a month ago?"

Dean thought about how slow this entity worked if it knew him for a month before using him as a chew toy. "Did he tell you anything about her?"

She poured them each a glass of milk, "He mostly spoke about her in song. A talent I never knew he had."

Sam exchanged looks with Dean, "Do you have any idea what she looks like?"

"He told us that she was too shy to have her picture taken, but he sang that she had hair like a raven. You two haven't met her either?"

Dean shook his head, "Nope. I mean, if he wouldn't introduce her to you, no way he'd introduce her to us."

Sam prodded cautiously, "I'm just curious. Why won't you speak with the police?"

She scoffed, "Because they're not doing anything to help find my son's killer. They think it's some crazy person on drugs."

Dean leaned in, "Who do you think it is?"

"The devil. That's who."

Sam considered her claim. "Did you notice anything strange around the time of his death or since he 'fell in love' with... what's her name?"

"Roxanne. Do you think she's the cause of my son's death? It makes so much sense."

"Well, we've been trying to figure it out too, and we need to find her to see if she's connected to it in any way."

Dean continued, "But did you notice anything strange like flickering lights, strange noises, maybe the smell of sulfur?"

She tilted her head, "No, I hadn't noticed anything like that." She smiled, "You two surely are servants of the lord."

Sam smiled back, "Yes, ma'am, we like to think so."

Dean took a cookie before Sam could try to deter him and took a bite. "This is delicious." He followed it up with a mouthful of ice cold milk.

"You can take those with you," she said. "Find my son's killer and punish her with the wrathful vengeance of the lord."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Do you know if there was any place in particular they liked to go together?"

"He sang about some trees and a path they liked to walk. And ducks."

"Sounds like a park," Dean said with a mouthful of cookie.

"Could be," Sam nodded and stood up. "Thanks, ma'am, we'll try to get to the bottom of this."

"Good boys," she said, seeing them out.

Sam rolled his eyes as they walked down the stoop toward Andy's car. "That was a whole lot of nothing."

Dean carried a paper plate of cookies in his hand and talked in between bites, "She might be crazy with grief, but her baking skills are top notch."

Sam caught a glimpse of Andy dancing in her car. "She's as bad as you are."

Dean grinned and walked around the car and tapped on the roof to get her attention. "You've got some moves."

She sang to him through the open window, still dancing in her seat, "_She loves that drivin' beat, she goes dancin' on down the street! She said whama-lama-bama-lama rock 'n' roll is king! Oh, rock on!_"

He grinned and leaned down, resting his arm on the door, "ELO? Awesome." He gave her a kiss before walking around to the passenger side.

"So, how'd it go?" Andy asked, turning the music down.

Sam answered from the back seat, "She thinks the devil killed her son."

Dean smirked, "Funny that she doesn't know how close to the truth she might actually be."

Andy made a U-turn to drive back to the motel. "So, the crazy person is not that crazy." She sniffed and looked at Dean. "Cookies!" He looked possessive of the cookies until she frowned at him, then he put one in her mouth.

When they reached the motel, Dean changed his clothes while Sam leafed through the police reports. "We're going to need to spy on this other guy, David. Jacob's body was found at the stadium, but Brian's body was in an old cabin in Pioneer Park. Wherever she's going to take David, it'll probably be outdoors."

Dean was comfortable again in his jeans and a black fitted T-shirt. "Maybe they'll go to the park like I suggested."

Andy raised an eyebrow, "You suggested this guy make himself bait?"

"He was going to meet up with this girl no matter what. He sorta volunteered himself as bait."

Sam stood up and dropped the reports on the bed. "I'm gonna change, then we should stake out Dave's house until he leaves."

"I want to burn those clothes," Dean said, glancing at the pile on the floor.

Sam brushed a loose thread off his sleeve, "I actually kinda like this shirt."

"Not a bad guesser, am I?" Andy grinned and picked up another cookie from the paper plate before leaving the room to give him some privacy.

She waited in her car to follow them to David's house. It was a short drive, and after they parked on the street in the small suburb, she slipped into the back of the impala. "I hope you have a stakeout mix tape in there somewhere."

Sam shook his head, "He only has the same rock tapes that he plays over and over. Better get used to it."

"Cassettes? Wow, I haven't seen one of these in forever. I used to have a walkman, and it would eat up my Madonna cassette every time."

He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned, "Madonna, huh? I can just picture you singing in front of your mirror with a hairbrush microphone to 'Like a virgin.'"

"Uh, no, it would have been to 'Secret.'"

He tried baiting her into singing it, "I don't think I've ever heard that one."

"What? You're kidding me." She knew she wasn't a good singer, but she didn't care. "_Somethin's comin' over mmm-mmm, somethin's comin' over mmm-mmm, somethin's comin' over me. My baby's got a secret_."

He grinned, "Oh, yeah, _that_ song."

Sam smirked, "You walked right into that." He looked out the window, then he checked his watch. "No lights on. But it's only seven."

"Maybe his room is on the other side of the house," Dean shrugged.

"Seven is nine to Mormons," Andy said, peering out the window, "Think he left already?"

"Crap." Dean stepped out of the car and went around the side of the house to check it out. When he came back a minute later, he heaved a frustrated sigh, "He's gone. Check the map again for where he could have possibly gone to."

Sam unfolded the paper map and laid it out across his lap. "Okay, looks like there are three parks. She dropped a body in the stadium here and the park here," he pulled a pen out of his pocket and circled them, "Not sure what the chances are of her returning to those places, but there are two more parks, here and here." Sam looked at Dean, uncertain whether or not they should include Andy in the hunt. As useful as an extra pair of eyes would be, it was dangerous, and she wasn't a hunter.

Andy leaned over the back of his seat to peer over his shoulder, "How about I take that one?" She pointed at the smallest park on the lower west side of the map.

Sam considered it. Whatever it was they were dealing with wasn't likely to kill there again. Or at least, that's what they figured.

Dean shook his head, "It's too dangerous. Just leave it to us."

"Oh, come on. You're not excluding me now!" She sat back in her seat and looked at him through the rearview mirror, "I can handle myself."

Sam looked at him, "Well, it is the safest spot for her to check."

Dean didn't like it, but he reminded himself that this wasn't her first hunt. She'd handled the incubus well enough, and she did do the research on this one. But he still felt like she should leave it up to the professionals or at least not be out alone. The last time he let her go alone, she'd almost died in her car.

She interrupted his train of thought, "Okay. Can I borrow a weapon?"

Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror and conceded, "Fine." He stepped out of the car again and led her around to the trunk. He opened it and lifted up the false bottom, propping it open with his shotgun, to show her their weaponry. "Speaking of weapons, I don't suppose your research hinted at how to kill these things?"

"Uh, well, that depends on which one we're dealing with."

"If it's a witch, she'll be easy to kill, but if it's a hungry ghost, we need to find its grave to salt and burn its corpse. As far as the Ass-wang and the Kishi, I've never dealt with those before."

"Aswangs are weak to silver and a surefire way to kill them is by decapitation. The kishi I read needs to be decapitated and/or burned."

Dean smirked, "You did your homework."

"Well, I had to do something while you guys spread the good word."

"Call one of us if you spot David. Do not let them know you're there."

"I don't have Sam's number."

Dean took his phone out and looked through his contacts so she could copy the number into her phone, since he didn't have it memorized. "If it's a ghost, you might need a shotgun to protect that kid."

"Then, I'll take that 12 gauge Remington," she said as she texted on her phone.

He handed it to her with a handful of rock salt shells. "And if it's not a ghost, then you'll just royally piss it off."

"So, I should take a pistol in case it's a witch? How about that one?" she pointed at a Beretta 92fs and continued texting.

"Witches are humans, so this will drop one like a sack of potatoes. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that," he said as he loaded and popped in a clip and handed it to her. "I loaded it with silver bullets, so try to make it count because they're not easy to come by."

Sam stepped out of the car and looked at Dean, then Andy. "Are you texting me?"

She raised her eyebrows, looking innocent. "You didn't give me your number. I've been gearing up with Dean."

Dean looked back and forth between them, "What do they say?"

Sam read the text messages: _You have purdy hair._ "I asked, 'Who is this? Andy?'" _No. This is your conscience. You are part robot and I have synced with your phone to send you subconscious text messages. You were subconsciously admiring your luscious locks in the side mirror. _He looked at Andy with a raised eyebrow as she sent another text message, and he looked down at his phone. _You want to give Andy coffee. Allll the coffee. _He chuckled, "I think you've had enough."

Dean laughed, "The Sam-1000 efficiently fetches your coffee or your money back."

Sam leaned against the side of the trunk, "Okay, so, Andy will go to Pioneer Park, I'll look around the city park, and Dean will take the northern park."

"Got it." Andy looked at the map for directions and left. When she arrived at Pioneer Park, it was mostly empty, save a few elderly people taking a stroll, and the sun had set. Along the street were stores, restaurants, and a theatre, but the traffic stayed on the sidewalk outside the park. After she checked the cabins, she made her way around the perimeter and found a senior center on site.

Dean dropped Sam off at the city park, which looked to be five times the size of the Pioneer park and was comprised mostly of baseball diamonds and football fields. Then, he drove to the northern park circled on the map. As he pulled up to the gates, he read the sign, "'Park cemetery'? Great." He loaded his double barrel shotgun with salt shells and raised it up as he walked in. "Stuck with the place full of dead people," he muttered. He circled the left side of the cemetery, but the place was empty, except for a cat that occasionally stalked him from the shadows. There were rows of trees separating sections of plots, making the cemetery seem smaller, except that behind the foliage, there were half a dozen other sections. He still had more ground to cover, but he doubted he would run into anyone. After twenty minutes, Sam called him. "Everything okay?" he answered.

"Dean, this place is huge. I'm heading over to the pond by the gazebo, but I could use some help. Think I should call Andy?"

He was apprehensive about putting her where the monster was more likely to show up, but at least she wouldn't be alone. "Yeah, sure. I'm not done here yet anyway."

Sam hung up and dialed Andy. "Hey. How's it looking over there?"

"I just circled the place and checked the cabins. Looks all clear to me."

"Good. I could use your help over here. This park's bigger than I thought."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

Sam circled another baseball diamond and made his way around the gazebo. He stopped when he spotted David sitting on a picnic blanket with a black-haired young woman in a white dress. He could overhear their conversation as he cautiously approached.

"Would you die for me?" she asked sweetly and softly.

"Of course I would," David smiled, taking her hands in his.

"Will you stay with me forever?"

"I will. In fact, I was going to ask you that myself. You beat me to the punch!"

She giggled and stood up, circling him with a smile.

"DAVID!" Sam shouted, raising his shotgun and aiming it at the girl, only a few feet away. "Get away from her!"

She turned and looked at Sam, her face contorting with rage, and hissed, "He's mine! Stay away!"

David stood up to block her from him, "Leave us alone, Agent White! We're getting married, and you can't stop us!"

"David, move out of the way! She's a monster!"

"No!" He charged at Sam and tried to grab the shotgun from him.

"David! Stop!" Sam wrestled the shotgun away and shoved him to the ground, making an effort not to hurt him. He raised his shotgun again and fired at the girl as she ran away, but the salt had no effect on her. He couldn't tell if it had even stung her, and she was fast.

"No, don't hurt her!" David tackled him so he lost his balance and dropped the shotgun. When Sam turned on his side to reclaim it, David grabbed the empty bottle of cider from his picnic basket and hit him over the head with it hard enough to daze him. With blurred vision and a throbbing pain in his skull, Sam braced himself on the grass on all fours as he tried to recuperate. David shoved him over and reached into his pocket to take his phone and wallet before chasing after the girl.

"Damn it," Sam groaned and sat up. The girl was out of sight, and there was no point in chasing after David. Sam picked up his shotgun and walked slowly back toward the parking lot, holding his head.

Andy parked and went out to meet Sam on the field as he came toward her. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"They got away."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Sam inhaled and tried not to roll his eyes as he admitted, "David stole my phone."

She raised an eyebrow, "You mean, they mugged you?"

He didn't like putting it that way and felt more pitiful when she gave him a pat on the back. "Let's just go find Dean." He followed her to her car and sat in the passenger's seat. "What took you so long to get here, anyway?"

"I made a quick stop. Sorry."

"It wasn't a coffee run, was it?"

"No! How unprofessional do you think I am?" She handed him her phone. "Here. Try calling Dean."

Sam dialed him, but he didn't pick up and the call went to voicemail. "This isn't good."

Andy sped up, lucky not to have to stop for any red lights, and pulled into the cemetery parking lot. She spotted the impala parked under some trees and went to park beside it. They squeezed in through the padlocked gate and started searching for Dean.

Dean found himself face to face with the black-haired girl. He'd fired on her once, but the salt was useless, and before he pulled his pistol, he found himself lowering his weapon and losing the will to fight. "What are you?" He dropped the shotgun on the ground and didn't move as she stepped closer to him. "You're... so hot..." In his head, he heard the words leave his mouth and inwardly chastised himself. He could come up with a better line than that. Then, for a brief moment, he realized he was under her spell. But he couldn't fight it.

"I'm the girl of your dreams," she said, tracing his jaw line with her fingertip. "Don't you want to kiss me?"

His body responded, pulling her closer. "Yes," he said, pressing his lips against hers.

She reached back behind her head, parting her hair to reveal a face in the likeness of a hyena as she started to transform. "Lie down," she ordered in a husky voice. When he stepped back and lowered himself to the ground as he was told, she pushed her hair forward, covering the soft features of her youthful human face. She twisted and turned, her arms and legs seeming to reverse at the joints as she leaned backwards. She turned around and crawled over him with drool dripping from her fangs.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted, running toward him.

"What the-" Andy slowed behind him as her jaw dropped.

The kishi looked up from where she was hovering over Dean and snarled at the intruders as she sidestepped away from him on all fours. Dean quickly rose to his feet and growled, stepping between Sam and the kishi, "Don't even think about trying to hurt her. I'll tear you apart."

"It's a kishi," Sam thought aloud.

"Ugly two-face bitch," Andy muttered.

Sam approached slowly, laying down his shotgun. "Dean, I'm not going to hurt her. Just stay calm."

Andy quickly unloaded the salt shells and dropped them on the grass before fumbling with the shotgun shells she brought in her pocket. She didn't take her eyes off the kishi crouched behind Dean. The kishi was staring intently at Sam, but whatever it was trying to do to him wasn't working.

Seeing Sam's face and hearing his voice was starting to bring Dean out of his trance. "Sammy?" He dropped his handgun that he'd pulled from the inside pocket of his jacket but didn't move away from the kishi behind him.

It growled in a guttural, frightened voice, "Pick up the gun! He's going to hurt me!" It looked around for an escape route, but the walls were too high. It could flee between the trees behind them, but the gates were on the other side of Sam and Andy.

Sam lunged forward and grabbed Dean, tumbling to the ground with him. The kishi panicked and crouched, ready to spring into an attack as Dean and Sam wrestled beside it on the grass.

Andy kept her aim on the kishi, and as soon as Sam and Dean were clear, she took her shot before it could run away, blowing the top of its head off. She fired a rapid second shot at its lower jaw as the body collapsed, obliterating what was left of its skull. Then, she lowered her gun with shaky hands, unable to take her eyes away from the crumpled body of a monster on the blood soaked grass.

Dean looked at Andy in shock. "Whoa." He pushed Sam's arm off him. "I'm fine now, Sammy, you can let go of me." He stood up, brushing grass off his clothes as he walked over to Andy, and blocked her view. He gently took the shotgun out of her hands. "Good shot."

Sam picked up Dean's duffle bag and set his weapons inside as he pulled out the salt and lighter fluid. "I guess it wasn't a coffee run after all."

Andy found her voice and looked at Sam, then Dean. "I never killed anything before."

Sam poured salt all over the corpse, then lighter fluid. "Dean."

Dean could tell Andy was shaken up. "One sec." He joined Sam by the kishi and reached into his pocket for his lighter. He lit it as he flipped it open, then dropped it on the body, and handed Sam his keys. "Take the impala. I'm going to go back with Andy."

"Okay-HEY!" Sam shouted at David, who was walking around on the other side of the gate. "David!"

He looked lost and confused. "Who is that? Who's there?"

"Give me back my wallet and my phone," Sam answered, walking across a dozen graves to meet him.

"So, it wasn't a dream... Agent White?" David dug through his pockets and handed Sam his phone and wallet through the space in the gate. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me. I just... couldn't control myself."

Andy walked past Sam and squeezed through the opening in the gate, followed by Dean, who looked at David and said, "Well, it's over, and I don't recommend you tell anyone about this. Not unless you like padded rooms."

"Maybe I belong in one."

Sam took a deep breath and gave him a reassuring nod, "You can go back to living a normal life."

"Can I really?"

"You can try."

Andy took Dean's arm as they walked across the parking lot to her car. "I guess I saved you, didn't I?" She looked up at him with a smile.

"Yeah, you did." He remembered the kiss and grimaced, "I feel violated. You have any gum on you?"

"Sorry, I don't." She handed him her keys, "You wanna drive? I don't feel too well."

"Sure." He opened her door for her, then walked around to the driver's side and sat down. His knees were touching the steering wheel. "I didn't realize how much of a shorty you are until now," he grinned, adjusting the seat back to make room.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then leaned back and pressed her palms against her closed eyes until she saw colors behind her lids. "I have the feeling I'll be seeing that bloody stump every time I close my eyes for at least a month."

"It's never easy the first time. Just try to remember that thing was a monster preying on people."

"Yeah. She was pretty nasty looking. I'm glad she looked like something out of Silent Hill or I might not have been able to do it."

"Dispatching ghosts is the easiest. At least they're already dead." He drove back to the motel and walked her to her room.

"I could use a hot bath. But, then again, I don't really like the look of that bathtub. Wouldn't want to walk out of here with a staph infection or something," she smirked at him. "I'm gonna take a shower. But afterwards... have a drink with me?"

"Sure, what's your poison? You're not gonna say coffee, are you?"

"You guys tease me, but I know you like your coffee too." She shrugged, "I'll have whatever you're having. I might not like it, but I'll take it. Anything to get brainsplatter out of my head." She sighed, "I need some Milo and Otis."

"I'll go make an alcohol run. And brush my teeth."

"Shower too. You just went rolling around in a graveyard."

He sniffed himself. "Good point. I'll be back in a few."

While Dean was out, Andy shampooed her hair and tried to take her mind off the monster she'd just killed. It had been months since she last saw Dean, and she didn't want their time to go to waste thinking about what she'd done. She dried off and changed into her pajamas, then lay down to meditate while she waited for him to return from the liquor store. When a knock came at the door, she answered, "It's open."

Sam cracked the door open and poked his head inside, "Hey, I just wanted to see if you're okay."

She sat up and looked at him, "I'll be okay."

"You did a good job out there."

"Thanks. We made a pretty good team saving Dean, didn't we?"

He nodded with a smile, "Yeah, if not for us, Dean would probably be getting a good look at the digestive system of a kishi right about now."

"You can come in, you know. You don't have to stand in the doorway. Unless... are you a vampire?" she asked jokingly, raising an eyebrow.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him, "I just didn't want to be rude. So, where is Dean, anyway?"

"Liquor store."

"Of course he is," Sam shook his head because he should have known. "Probably planning on gargling the taste of kishi out of his mouth with whiskey."

"That and I wanted to distract myself from thinking about the mess."

He looked at her, concerned. David was screwed up from what happened, and he hadn't even seen what it turned into. Andy got up close and personal with the thing. "Just don't try to match him shot for shot."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on it. I'm not much of a drinker, and I skipped dinner. I just need to take the edge off."

"I finished your book, by the way." Sam put his hands in his pockets, "It was really good."

Her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"I was pretty impressed by your action scenes between the wolves. Did you watch a lot of nature documentaries?"

"I did some research on wolf behavior and body language." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "How off was I with my representation of werewolves?"

He shrugged, "They don't shapeshift into wolves. Actually, that's something else entirely. They're called skinwalkers."

"Oh, yeah, I read about those during my research. I had the Book of Werewolves by Sabine Baring-Gould, and it talked about all the different ways one can become a werewolf. They kinda lumped them all together though. My favorite was drinking rainwater out of a wolf's footprint under the full moon."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I've read that one too. It has a lot of personal accounts dating back to the early 1800's. Hard to say which ones are real, but a lot of them sound legitimate."

She sat cross legged and looked up at him, "So, not a bad book to use as a reference then. Any suggestions for other books I could use to research?"

"There are tons of books, but I'd say the older the better. If you do research on certain regions and look up their local folklore, you're bound to find something interesting that probably exists."

"I'll do that. Thanks."

"So, what do you think about what we do? I mean, now that you've experienced a couple of hunts with us, you have a better idea about how crazy the hunter lifestyle is."

"I'd say you summed it up pretty well with 'crazy,'" she grinned. "It's just a shame you don't get paid for what you do. How do you guys make ends meet, anyway?" She'd avoided asking them before because it was rude, but she was curious and now she had an opening.

"We take up work here and there..." He admitted, "Dean also has a tendency to get his hands on credit cards."

She chuckled, "I figured there was some law breaking involved. But as crazy as your job is, you guys are ready for anything. Now that I know what's out there, I think I have a better chance of surviving should something come creeping up on me again. And now that I found something just looking online for questionable causes of death, I can see how it might even be addictive." She confessed, "I can't tell you how happy I was to see that it was a kishi. One of my prime suspects! When I first met up with you guys, I really thought I'd be way off and you guys would end up solving it without me, if there even was a case. I'm glad I didn't waste your time."

"Your investigative skills are pretty good," he said. "And it can be exciting to learn about all the stuff that's out there, but this life weighs on you."

She tilted her head, curious, "How does it weigh on _you_?"

"You can't save everyone, and once you get deep into it," he shook his head, knitting his brows, "going back to 'normal' seems kind of impossible."

"You sound like soldiers."

Sam thought about their dad. "We were kind of raised to be. Though Dean's better at it than I am. Being a 'soldier,' that is."

"Meaning..." she guessed, "you don't like following orders?"

He shrugged, "So I've been told... repeatedly."

She let out a thoughtful, "Hm." She'd misjudged Sam. She hadn't spent enough time with him to get to know him very well, so she'd just thought he was mild mannered and sweet and probably following Dean's lead. It was hard to think of him as a rebel.

She almost felt like she'd learned more about them from their conversation than she had in the last five months through text messages or conversations with Dean. Dean didn't like talking about his past or his family, aside from cracking jokes about his little brother, so she didn't ask. She'd intended to learn more about him when they could talk in person. In theory, it would be harder for him to deflect her questions.

Dean knocked on the door, holding a paper bag of supplies in his arm. When Sam answered the door, Dean gave him a quizzical look and checked the number on the door to make sure he went to right room.

"Hey, Dean. I was just keeping Andy company while you were out."

"That's nice of you, but I've got things from here," he winked, holding up the bag. He motioned with his eyes for him to go.

"Night, Andy," Sam said before walking past Dean.

"Good night, Sam," she smiled.

"Oh, hey, got these for you," Dean said as he reached into the bag and handed him a porno magazine and some beef jerky.

"Uh... thanks, I guess."

"Well, if you don't want it-"

Sam turned, blocking Dean's grabby hand, and returned to his room.

Dean went inside and closed the door behind him. "Honey, I'm home!" He grinned and set the paper bag down on the table, then took out a bottle of whiskey and two plastic cups.

Andy crawled over to the foot of the bed and took the bottle from him to read the label, which read High West Whiskey, not that she would have known the difference if it were something else. She handed it back to him, "Okay, I just want to get a little tipsy, not 'I regret last night' levels of drunk."

He looked at her with mock offense, "C'mon, you're with me. How much could you regret?" He pulled the cork out and filled their cups halfway before setting the bottle back down on the table. "You and Sam have a nice chat?"

"Yeah, we mostly talked about my book and research." She sniffed the whiskey before swallowing a mouthful and cleared her throat.

He sat on the edge of the bed beside her, "He read that thing nonstop while we were on the road. I think he finished it in a couple days." He drank his half cup in one go and poured himself another.

"I'm flattered," she said, swirling the whiskey in her cup as she watched him.

"I read it too, but I kinda skipped to the naughty parts at the first chance I got."

She rolled her eyes, "Why am I not surprised?"

He grinned and changed the subject, "So, you mentioned before your dad took you shooting. When was that?"

"When I was a teenager. It was probably the only time we really spent alone together." She finished her drink, feeling warm, and handed him her cup for a refill, "What about you? When did you start hunting?"

He poured her another and handed it to her. "I learned to shoot when I was seven, but I didn't actually hunt something until I was sixteen. Been hunting since."

"Wow, that's young. Was it hard for you?"

"Not really. My dad trained me for years to prepare me."

"You remind me of the kids in those Japanese movies that are trained to be ninjas from the time they're 'able to lift a sword.'"

He cracked a smile, "I'm gonna need to talk to Sam about adding ninja pajamas to our disguises."

"Not sure under what circumstances you could actually disguise yourselves as ninjas though."

"Details. What matters is we'll be ready."

"Do you have a sword?"

"I have a pretty cool machete if that counts."

She grinned and took another sip of whiskey, "I don't think it does, but I'm sure you'd be a sexy ninja. And Sam would definitely be the tallest ninja. You two can be spirit-assassins."

"The spirit-assassins..." he chuckled, "It kind of sounds like a bad 90's rap rock band."

She laughed, "What would your number one hit be?"

He thought about it, "Money, hoes, and ghosts, all a hunter knows."

She laughed, "That is terrible." She finished her drink and handed him the cup. "I think I've had enough. Feels like I'm burning a hole in my stomach now." She moved back on the bed to lie down.

"I should have grabbed something to eat for you," he said, finishing off his cup, then he set the bottle and cups back on the table and joined her.

"Oh, no, I don't want to think about food right now anyway." She rested her head on his chest when he settled down beside her. "Tell me about your first hunt."

"It was a werewolf."

"So, do they look like the wolfman? Sam already told me they don't turn into wolves."

"They look pretty human but with wolfish eyes and fangs. Oh, and they're in desperate need of a manicure."

"Huh. Well, do you at least have to kill them with a silver bullet?"

"Yeah, that part is true. Anything silver to the heart. I used a crossbow."

She looked up at him, "You know, to be honest, I never would have thought I had a killer instinct. I mean, shooting that incubus is one thing, it wasn't really alive. But I didn't think I could shoot something that could bleed. I guess I'm a little surprised... and maybe a little scared that I didn't hesitate."

"You did the right thing," he reminded her. "You were protecting me and stopped her from killing anyone else. It wasn't in cold blood." He slipped his arm around her to caress her side. "How's your stomach feeling now?"

"Warm and fuzzy," she answered and kissed his chin. She'd imagined her reunion with him over the last five months being more romantic and less bloody, but it could still end on a high note, and she wasn't going to squander what time she had left with him. "I missed you."

He kissed her lips, "And I thought about you every day."


	3. Harvester of Sorrow

Harvester of Sorrow | **39**

**Disclaimer: **_This is a work of fanfiction using characters from CW's Supernatural. I am not affiliated with CW nor do I claim ownership of any part of Supernatural. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported to be canon. _

_Song credits: Metallica - Harvester of Sorrow; Sarah McLachlan - Angel; Sia - Breathe Me; Creedence Clearwater Revival - Up Around the Bend_

_Note: This chapter takes place in Season 2 sometime after episode 4, probably in late December, post Christmas. _

**Supernatural**

**Chapter 3**

**"Harvester of Sorrow"**

After confronting the yellow eyed demon, nearly dying, and losing his father, Dean withdrew from everyone, including Sam. He put on a smile and acted like he was okay, but he was bottling up his guilt and anger and becoming more violent with every job. He admitted to Sam three months after their father's death that it was his fault their dad died and that he shouldn't be alive. Deep down, he feared his father was in Hell because of him.

When they checked into a motel room in a small town in central Nebraska, Dean sighed and looked at Sam, "Let me borrow your laptop."

"Why?"

"I have to check my email."

He hadn't spoken to her more than once after the job in Utah. After a couple weeks of not receiving a text back from him, Andrea stopped reaching out, and that had been back in September, before the car crash. He hadn't checked his email in at least as long. Sam left his chair and went to lie down on the bed, and Dean took his seat. Aside from the spam, there were only two emails from Andy in his inbox. The first email he received was one of her long winded emails, sweet, story like, and curious. She had a way of being conversational, even though he knew he probably seemed like a wall. The second was short and read:

_ Dean, I hope you're okay. Please, just let me know that you're still alive. I pray you're safe. - Andrea_

He closed the laptop and went to bed. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, "Let's drop by San Diego."

Sam turned his head to look at him, "Really?"

"We don't have a job to rush off to right now."

"I know. Okay, we'll go," Sam agreed, hoping Dean's state of mind would further improve with the trip. That they lost their father was hard enough, but they'd also lost the colt and any trace of the yellow eyed demon. They had nowhere to go.

When they arrived in San Diego the following evening, Sam booked a motel room and Dean drove out to Andy's apartment building and took the elevator up. He hadn't figured out what he would say; he figured he would gauge her reaction and go from there. She did say she would wait, and he did think she was worth the effort. As he knocked on the door, he suddenly had a sinking feeling that she'd moved on.

Andy answered the door in her pajamas, cracking it open to see who it was. Her jaw dropped, and she opened the door wider, "Dean."

"Hi..." he offered her a smile as he put his hands in his pockets. He still wasn't sure how to explain himself, but he knew he owed her an apology. There was an awkward silence between them as she stared at him in disbelief, and he wondered if coming by was a mistake. When she stepped into the hallway and hugged him, he hoped maybe he wasn't in as much trouble as he'd thought.

She pulled back to look at him. "It's been, what, three months? I was afraid you were dead."

"Can I come in?"

She wanted an answer, but it didn't have to be in the hallway. She let him inside and closed the door behind him. "Where's Sam?"

"Back at the motel."

She looked at him expectantly, feeling hurt and growing angry. "When you didn't answer, I tried calling Sam, and he didn't pick up. Why didn't you let me know you were okay?"

He turned around to face her, "I asked Sam not to pick up. A lot's happened, and I needed some time."

She bit the inside of her cheek, "What happened?"

He took a deep breath, reluctant to go into detail. "That demon we were hunting, it got away. There's no way we can kill it now."

"The one your dad was tracking?"

He nodded, glancing around the room, and noticed a lot of her things were packed up in boxes.

She could tell he didn't like where this conversation was going, but she asked anyway, "Is he okay?" When he lowered his eyes, licking and pursing his lips, she knew what he'd needed time for. It wasn't just time to be angry or pursue their lost lead on the demon but to grieve. "Dean, I'm sorry." When she reached out to touch him, he pulled away.

Realizing his reaction, he moved closer, clearing his throat. "I'm having some trouble thinking straight since it happened. I've been... pissed off." He sighed and took her hand, "Didn't want you to get caught up in it. I just needed to be alone to deal with it."

"I get it. But next time just drop me a line to let me know you're alive. Or let Sam tell me. He's in the dog house too as far as I'm concerned."

He nodded, "Sorry."

She squeezed his hand, "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm not sure for how long though."

She frowned and wrapped her arms around him. "I missed you."

He gingerly placed his hands on her hips and inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo before lifting her chin to kiss her lips. "Why is all your stuff in boxes?"

"My lease ends at the end of the month. I didn't want to stay here anymore, not after what happened."

"You're still feeling anxious about the incubus? It's gone, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. But Wendy still knows where I live. I can't ever trust her again. I don't think she'll mess around with spirits anymore to harass me, but I could use a change of scenery anyway."

Dean took another look around, "What happened to Splinter?"

"Justin," she corrected him with a smile. "He passed away last month. He was three years old."

"Sorry to hear that."

She knew her rat's passing paled in comparison to his father's, so she changed the subject, "Would you like something to drink?"

"I'll have a beer."

"If I'd known you were coming over..." she looked apologetic.

"Coffee, then," he shrugged and sat down on her sofa. He watched her walk into the kitchen to pour him a mug and thought about taking a break. He could see spending a week in bed with her, watching movies and having sex, eating a home cooked meal, and maybe helping her with her kickboxing. It sounded more appealing the more he thought about it. But he had to look after Sam and knew as soon as a call came in, he'd be out the door. "What have you been up to since we last talked?"

"Research, research, and more research," she answered. "I also started attending a Brazilian jiu-jitsu class every Saturday. Rebecca went with me for the first few weeks, then she got tired of it." She took a seat next to him on the couch and handed him his coffee.

He smirked, "Do all the guys fight over being partnered up with you?"

She nudged him with her elbow, "Why? You jealous?"

"What? ...No! Course not," he scoffed dismissively, then looked at her, "Maybe. Do they really hit on you?"

"Ha! No, not really."

He took a sip of his coffee, "So, what have you been researching?"

"Monsters, boogeymen, things that go bump in the night. Hard to distinguish what's real or not though. There needs to be a guide to hunting published somewhere."

"Most hunters carry journals like our dad. Sam's been adding to it as we go. We usually consult that first, then do our research with old lore and hope it pans out." He hoped she wasn't planning on becoming a hunter. "You looking for a new book idea?"

"I've been tossing around a few ideas. One involves a harpy. But mostly I just want to learn," she said, turning and sitting back against the armrest to face him. "Now that I know a lot of this stuff is real, I can't just pretend it doesn't exist." She pointed, "For all I know, my neighbor could be some kind of garbage dwelling monster. I haven't actually found any monsters that like living in filth, but if you go out in the hallway, I swear you can smell him from here."

"He probably just has bad B.O.-"

"Oh, yeah, definitely."

"But that's it. And you should really just focus on your writing and living a normal life. Maybe get a dog."

"A dog?" she raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment."

"Why not?"

"That'd tie me down to one place. Plus, it's kinda like raising a furry little kid that bites a lot and poops all over the place without wearing a diaper." She shrugged, "Someday, maybe."

"I just want you to be safe and not get sucked into this crazy life of hunting things and things coming after you."

She understood where he was coming from, especially after he just lost his father. But she was fascinated with his lifestyle and what was out there. She always had been, except she never knew any of it was real until she met him. After losing his father, she wouldn't blame him if he quit. She wasn't sure how easy it would be for her to move on from it herself though, and she hadn't really even started yet. "Are you going to stop hunting?"

"I can't. Not right now." He forced a smile and tapped her leg, "Right now I don't want to think about any of that stuff." He winked, "I'd rather just enjoy some alone time with you."

Behind his smile, she could see the sadness in his eyes. "Okay. I won't pester you to talk about your feelings, but I'm a good listener," she said, kissing his cheek. She ran her fingers through his hair and let her hand fall on his shoulder to push on his jacket, "Get comfortable and relax."

He took off his jacket, and she hung it in the hallway closet beside her own. She looked back at him, "How about a movie?"

He smirked, "No chick flicks."

"Your pick," she offered and returned to the couch.

He picked up the remote from the otherwise immaculate coffee table and started channel surfing. With her belongings in boxes and her furniture bare, her living room reminded him of a motel, albeit a clean, contemporary one. "Oh, here we go."

"Is that Shark Week?"

"Shark Night," he grinned at her.

She chuckled, "I'm not surprised you're a fan of B movies with all the time you spend in motels."

"I love a movie that's so bad it's good."

"Is this the one where the shark eats the airplane?"

He shook his head, "Nope, that's Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus."

"We should just watch Jaws."

"Do you have it?"

"Unfortunately, no." She lay back along the length of the couch, resting her head on the armrest. "They're all gonna die." She rested one foot on his lap and tucked the other behind him between the couch cushions.

"Don't spoil the movie," he grinned.

She nudged him with her foot, "You can lie down with me if you want."

He ran his hand over her leg and took his eyes away from the TV to look down at her. She guided him to rest on top of her between her legs, with his head on her chest. She liked his weight over her, and it made her smile when his chuckles reverberated through her. She idly caressed his hair and his back, barely paying attention to the movie as she focused on him. She wasn't sure how long she'd have him for. By the end of the movie, Dean had drifted off to sleep with his arm tucked between her lower back and the couch, and one of his legs was propped up on the other armrest. It didn't look very comfortable to her, but she didn't want to wake him, so she turned the TV off with the remote and eventually fell asleep underneath him.

The sound of her stomach growling woke them both up four hours later.

"I fell asleep?" Dean raised himself up on his elbow, blinking away his blurry vision. "For how long?"

She felt light as a feather without his weight pinning her down. "A few hours, I think. You must have been pretty tired."

"Didn't sleep last night," he admitted. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she smiled. Taking a nap helped rid her of any residual anger she had over his lack of communication the last few months. She sat up and kissed his cheek, trailing her fingers down his chest, "How about I wake you up and we have dinner after?"

He grinned and kissed her lips, "I've missed you." Placing his hand on the curve of her waist, he leaned down to kiss her neck. "You don't have to do much to 'wake me up.'"

Andy took his hand and led him to her bedroom, where she comforted him the best way she knew how. He didn't want to talk about what was on his mind, and he was pretending nothing was wrong, so she did too. He needed the night off from his thoughts, and she served to ground him now. She had him lie back on her bed so she could take charge.

The sun had set by the time they were ready to eat. Andy rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed to stretch. "Why don't you pick up Sam and bring him by? I'll cook something," Andy offered, looking over her shoulder.

"I guess I can go interrupt his Casa Erotica time and bring him over."

Andy leaned down to give him a kiss on the cheek before retreating to the restroom to freshen up. Dean rolled out of bed and picked up his clothes off the floor to get dressed, then he noticed a blue folder on Andy's desk beside her laptop. He lifted the cover to take a peek inside and ended up leafing through the pages. When she walked back inside, he held it up. "What's this?" She didn't answer and reached for the folder, but he didn't give it to her. "Because it kinda looks like you're working a case. Are you hunting?"

She snatched the folder from him. "I don't want you to worry about it."

"So, you weren't going to tell me?"

She could hear the subdued anger in his tone and looked down at the folder in her hands. "I thought about telling you. I mean, if I did tell you I'd have waited til tomorrow." She looked at him, "But you aren't exactly in the right mood for me to ask for your help on the matter."

Aggravated, he picked up his jacket from the back of her chair and put it on. He was quiet because he didn't want to say something he'd regret, and he knew she was right.

"Dean, please, don't be angry with me." She set the folder down on the desk and slipped her arms into his jacket to wrap them around his waist. "I just wanted you to have a night off."

"I thought maybe you were just toying with the idea before but weren't actually serious. I don't want you to get hurt or killed..." He thought about his father being possessed by the yellow eyed demon. He couldn't save him, and his father couldn't protect himself. "...and I don't want to even think about some demon using you for a meat suit."

"I don't want to face a demon either, but this is a ghost." She pulled him closer, looking up at him, "I know you want me to be normal and safe, but this is something I have to do."

"No, you don't-"

"Yes, I do. And you don't have to help me, but... you can't stop me, either."

He clenched his jaw, trying to think of what to say, but it didn't seem to matter, and that bothered the hell out of him. "You're going to go out on your own no matter what I say, aren't you?"

She couldn't lie to him about it. "Yes... but I could really use your help."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I need some time to think. I'll go get Sam and we can talk about it after dinner."

When Dean and Sam returned, Andy opened the door and hastily returned to the kitchen. "Hey, guys, just on time. It's almost ready." She opened the fridge for Dean when she saw the six pack in his hand. "Good seeing you again, Sam."

"You too. Thanks for inviting me over for dinner." He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath, "Smells good."

"You're welcome. How are you... doing?" she asked, stopping herself from using the words 'holding up.'

Sam figured she knew about their dad by the way she asked. "I'm okay. Do you need any help?"

"You can set the table," she said, pointing at the pile of plates, forks, and napkins on the counter top.

"Okay."

Dean took a bottle of beer with him to the table and set one down for Sam. "So, what's cookin'?"

"Chicken alfredo," she answered, stirring the fettuccini on the stove. "With lots of vegetables. Mmm." When Dean made a face, she held up a paper plate set on the counter. "And bacon because I knew you'd make that face."

"What face?"

"The face you just made. You have an aversion to healthy eating."

Sam smirked, "She's right."

Andy took the pot to the table and set it down with a big serving spoon, and she placed the plate of bacon between Sam and Dean to share. "Dig in."

Dean served himself first. "Hey, bacon and hamburgers are healthy for you. It's protein and fat. Fat helps you stay warm during the winter."

"He caught a national geographic documentary about polar bears," Sam said, giving her a look.

She shook her head, "Your logic baffles me, and you are not a polar bear living in Antarctica."

Dean smiled smugly, "That's right because polar bears don't live in Antarctica."

She thought about it and narrowed her eyes, "Really?"

Sam chuckled, scooping extra pieces of broccoli onto his plate. "That's what he said when he found out too."

Dean placed the bacon on top of his alfredo and tilted his head, giving it a nod of approval, "Yeah, I can eat this."

Sam shook his head at Dean and looked at Andy, "So, Dean mentioned I was in the doghouse." His mouth twitched into an apologetic smile, "I deserve it, but he made me promise. Sorry."

Andy slapped Dean's arm, "Why'd you tell him that?"

Dean let out a muffled, "Ow, what?" He pointed at Sam with his fork and answered mid-chew, "I wanted to see him give you that puppy face."

Sam's look changed into a look of disapproval.

"Well, he's not in the doghouse anymore," Andy said, scooping some alfredo on her plate. "But you both have to promise not to snub me anymore."

Sam nodded, "I promise I won't snub you anymore."

Dean took a swig of his beer and thought about it. "If you promise you won't go off chasing ghosts by yourself."

Sam looked at him, then her. "You're planning a hunt or is he just being a wise ass?"

Andy subdued her defensive tone, but she could feel her heart picking up its pace. "So, what, you're going to ignore me if I go through with it?"

Dean shrugged and lifted his beer for another sip. "Maybe."

Andy stared at him for a moment, hurt and angry. Her chair scraped across the floor as she stood up from the table, shaking her head. As she passed him on the way to her bedroom, she muttered under her breath, "Dick."

Once she was gone, Sam resisted kicking him under the table. "What the hell was that about?"

Dean set his beer down, looking guilty. "I tried to call her bluff... but I think I'm out of the doghouse and into the kennel."

"Why are you so resistant to this case she's working on?"

"Because she's not supposed to be hunting," he said before following her to the bedroom. "Andy?" He knocked on her door and let himself in when she didn't answer. He knew what he was did was wrong, and he could see she had her heart set on going through with it.

She heard the door open behind her and wiped her tears as she took a shaky breath to address him with a steady voice. "That's not fair. I would never make you choose."

"Andy, I'm sorry." He felt guilty for hurting her, not once but twice now. He wiped a tear from her cheek, wanting to see if he could make her smile. "Missed a spot." She sniffed, trying to hold back her emotions, and started to walk past him back to the dining room. "Andy." He was starting to realize maybe he needed more time away than he'd thought. "I'm sorry."

She looked back at him and nodded, "Okay. Don't snub me anymore."

"I won't."

She went back to the table to finish her dinner, even though she'd lost her appetite.

Sam watched her push her food around her plate for a while before asking, "So, you've picked up on the trail of something? Can I see what you've got?"

Dean walked in from the bedroom and handed him the file. "It's a ghost in the suburbs."

"A ghost?" He began thumbing through the file, "How long have you been putting this together?"

"A few months, I guess."

Sam looked through the three obituaries. "These are all suicides years apart."

"In the same house, a few years apart but around the same time. I'm willing to bet it actually happened on the same day, but I couldn't request copies of their death certificates to make sure."

He didn't want to put down her case, but he suggested, "These could be unrelated suicides."

"Even if they are, the house is still haunted," Andy pressed.

"What makes you so sure it's a ghost? Have you seen it?"

"Not exactly, no. I was friends with a girl who lived there."

"When was that?"

Andy counted in her head, "Thirteen years ago. We were friends for a couple years, then she moved away."

"What did your friend say? Thirteen years ago, that makes her, what, twelve at the time?"

Andy crossed her arms, "And how many ghosts and other supernatural things had you guys seen by that age?"

Dean smirked, "She's got you there, Sammy."

"Point taken," Sam conceded.

Andy continued, "She said she heard a woman crying. She thought it was her mom, so she went to the bathroom, but when she opened the door, no one was there. Might not sound like much, but she told me the same thing the next year on the same day. And she said she hid in her room because it made her sad."

Sam skimmed the pages looking for a date, "When is the anniversary of this ghost's death, anyway?"

"Tomorrow night," she answered, "You guys have impeccable timing."

Dean set his beer down, "Tomorrow night? Cutting it close." He exchanged looks with Sam, "What do you think?"

"Sounds like something worth checking out, and it's not too far away, so getting there in time won't be a problem."

Dean looked at Andy thoughtfully, "Alright, you win, we're on board." He wouldn't have let her go alone even if it was a wild goose chase.

"Thank you," she said, meeting his gaze.

Dean reached for the pot of chicken alfredo and served himself another plate. "Could be a violent spirit murdering people. Reenacting her death with whoever's around?"

Sam tilted his head, considering it. "What if it's a woman in white?"

"What's a woman in white?" Andy asked. "Isn't that the one that steals children and drowns them?"

"That's la Llorona. She's a woman in white, but not all women in white are la Llorona," Sam answered.

"A woman in white is the spirit of a woman who has a crap load of sadness and rage. The one we faced lured unfaithful men to their deaths. It's probably not a woman in white, but you never know," Dean shrugged.

"Could be," Andrea bit her cheek, thinking about it.

"What do you know about the people living there now?" Dean asked.

"There's a husband, wife, and their two kids. One in high school, one in elementary. They've lived there for a little under two years."

"How did you know about the other suicides?" Sam asked.

"I asked the realtor when the house went up for sale. They're required to disclose that kind of thing if they're asked about it."

Sam knitted his brow and looked at her, concerned. She'd had to have been working on this case before they'd even met her if she was questioning the realtor about previous deaths in the house before the last family moved in almost two years ago.

"Wait," Dean picked up the file. "You said the first suicide was fifteen years ago?" He pulled up the page for Susanna Batcha. "So, let's dig her up and burn her remains."

"She was cremated," Andy said. "If it was that easy, I might have done it already."

"So, you think grave digging is easy now?" Dean raised his eyebrows, amused.

"Well, no. Compared to getting the family out of the house so I can snoop around, maybe. That's why I need your guys' help. I know you're good on the fly at conning people."

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, "So, there would have to be DNA or something in the house still. We can't just dig through their house hoping to find it. How did she kill herself?"

Andy poked at a carrot on her plate. "She slit her wrists in the bathtub."

Dean exchanged glances with Sam and probed, "You don't by chance know with what, do you?"

"A straight razor. It could be in the house still."

"Then, that's probably it. It's probably got dried blood on it, and it was the tool used to cause her death. That's two reasons right there she could be bound to it." Dean shrugged, "Maybe we should just sneak in to steal the blade and sneak right back out."

Sam interjected, "How many times has that house been sold?"

"Five..." Andy sulked, aware the razor could be lost.

"Well, I guess if it was kept in a box in the attic, and they never thought to get rid of it, it could still be there. But it's probably changed hands or ended up in a dump somewhere," Sam said.

"I doubt it ended up in a dump. Maybe an antique store somewhere," Andy said, thinking about the ornate design of the blade. "If it did change hands and she was bound to it, would she move too?"

"It's possible," Dean answered. "I guess we'll have to find a way to search that house. Think they'd fall for it if you ran into the house, looking for a place to hide from your crazy ex-boyfriend? Maybe they would hide you in the attic, and you could snoop around."

Andy stifled a laugh.

Sam looked at him incredulously, "That is a terrible idea. Who in their right mind wouldn't call the police?"

Dean scoffed, "Well, we can't very well ring the doorbell and say, 'Hi, we suspect there's a suicide inducing ghost haunting this place. Mind if we come in and look for the razor she used to off herself?'"

"Let's send them to Disney World!" Andy suggested.

"And who's footing the bill for that one?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, if anyone's going to Disney World, it's gonna be me," Dean smirked.

"Okay, so that's not feasible either. What if we infest the place with snakes so they leave?" Andy mused.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, "That's more creative than some of your worst suggestions."

"Oh, hush, you," Andy narrowed her eyes at him.

Dean grinned, "Let snakes loose into their home... can't see how that could possibly go wrong."

Andy sighed and stood up, taking their plates to the sink. "We need ideas."

Dean shrugged, "Why don't we just sneak in while they're asleep?"

"What if dad owns a shotgun? Also, they have a teenage boy, chances are he'd be up all hours of the night," Andy shook her head.

"He'd have his earphones in or he'd be watching porn," Dean argued.

"What if dad owns a shotgun?" Andy reiterated, opening the fridge for a beer. She set the bottle down beside Dean's empty bottle and fixed him with a look.

He looked up at her with an appreciative wink. "Well, they have to go to work and school, don't they?"

Sam reminded him, "On a Sunday?"

"Church?" Dean suggested, desperate.

"What if we offer them a free stay at a hotel with tickets to Sea World in exchange for them writing a review for some fake review site? This weekend only!" Andy suggested.

"Too much work," Dean dismissed the convoluted plan.

"Gas leak," Sam said.

Andy sat back down in her seat, "Yes! I've seen this movie! You mess with the CO2 detector and send someone to inspect it!"

"That was in a movie?" Sam asked.

"Actually, I don't know... I might have made that up," she admitted. "Sounds like something out of a movie."

Sam walked over to the coffee table and opened his laptop, "I'll look up how to hack into the CO2 detector to set off the alarm. Should be easy."

"Are the coveralls in the trunk?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, not sure if they're clean though." Sam scanned a website and spent the next twenty minutes reading through the manuals. "Okay, I know how to set the alarm off, assuming it's a similar model. If I do it, we'll need to call them as the company that installed the detector and tell them we're sending someone over to check it out."

"I can handle that," Andy volunteered.

"Great. Then, Dean, you can be the gas man."

"Gotcha. I'll have them vacate the premises for 24 hours while we fix the leak and air out the house, then we'll start our hunt for that razor."

"We'll get started tomorrow morning," Sam said, standing up. "I should get back to the motel and get some rest."

Dean reached into his pocket and tossed Sam his keys. "Scratch her-"

"And I'm dead, got it," Sam finished his threat for him as he caught the keys. "Night, Andy. Thanks again for dinner."

"You're welcome," she smiled back at him and saw him to the door. When he was gone, she returned to the table to dispose of the empty beer bottle. "I guess you don't get a night off until after tomorrow."

"I guess not," he said, standing up. "So, wanna kiss and make up for earlier?"

"Hmm," she rolled her eyes, "I guess I can forgive you." There was no way she could say no to those lips of his.

The next day, Andy dropped by the local hardware store for some cheap dust masks before they put their plan into action. Dean retrieved his coveralls from the trunk and put them on before they drove out to the house in the suburbs.

"Hopefully this ghost shows up because getting the family out of the house is probably gonna be a major pain in the ass," Dean said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he parked at the end of the block.

Andy looked at him through the rearview mirror, "She'll be there. Trust me."

Sam opened the glove compartment for a travel size toolkit and tucked it into his jacket. "Which house is it?"

"The one with the garden gnome. Driveway's empty, but I'll check the garage."

"Those things are creepy," Dean muttered.

"Maybe I should do it," Sam volunteered. She wasn't tall enough to look through the windows lining the top of the garage door, and he needed to scope the place out for a back door anyway. "I'll be right back." Sam walked down the street to the house, which looked nearly identical to the others on the block, and casually walked up the driveway to peer through the window, cupping his hands against the glass to see inside. Then, he walked around to check the side gate and saw the door leading presumably into the kitchen on the side of the house beside two garbage bins. He walked back to the car and peered in through the passenger side window, "Looks like no one's home."

Dean weighed their options, "Well, we could break in and snoop around while Andy stands guard."

"Or we could wait," Andy shrugged.

"First, we gotta make sure the house is really empty," Sam said. "Andy, why don't you ring the doorbell in case someone is home? If there is, you distract them so I can sneak in through the back to set off the alarm."

"Okay." She slipped out of the backseat and leaned down to look at Dean through the window, "You might want to make yourself scarce. Park around the block or something. Wouldn't want them coming home and seeing you when you're supposed to con them later."

"Good thinking. 'I just happened to be in the area' probably wouldn't cut it as an explanation." Dean made a U turn and drove around the block to park in the cul-de-sac.

Andy looked at Sam, "It's show time!"

"Unless the house is empty."

"We'll see." She tried to think about what she could say to distract whoever answered the door and inwardly kicked herself for not giving that any forethought. She looked up at Sam as they walked down the block three houses away, "I'm sorry about your dad."

"Oh... thanks." He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, "Has Dean said anything about it?"

"No. I have the feeling trying to get him to talk about his feelings is like pulling teeth."

He smirked, "Yeah. You can say that again."

"I'm here for you too if you need someone to listen."

"Thanks. That's sweet of you."

As they came up to the house, Andy nudged Sam with her elbow, "I don't know if I can keep a conversation going for more than a couple minutes."

"A couple minutes is all I need."

She thought about it and gave him a look with a subdued grin.

"Not like that!"

Andy laughed and approached the front door while Sam stayed beside the gate to the backyard. She rang the doorbell and looked through the glass beside the door.

A teenage boy, maybe seventeen, dressed in skinny jeans and a white t-shirt, with his hair styled into a faux hawk, answered the door. He looked her up and down and smiled, "What's up?"

"Hi... are your parents home?"

"No."

Sam took that as his cue to move and reached over the gate to unlatch the hook from inside and made his way to the kitchen door.

"Oh," Andy rocked on her heels, "Well, do you guys have a dog? Just curious. I found one roaming the street, I've been asking all over the place."

"Uh, no. What kind is it?"

"A yorkie."

"Yeah, I don't know anyone with a... a what?"

"Yorkie. Cute little yapper with long hair. Looks kinda like a dirty mop."

"Huh, no, dunno any dogs like that," the boy said, leaning against the door jamb. "Why would you need to know if my parents were home to ask if I lost my dog?"

Andy liked how sharp this kid was and grinned, "To see if they'd offer me a reward of course."

"That's kind of messed up."

Andy could see Sam poke his head out into the hallway to make sure the boy was still distracted before he went into a bedroom to set off a CO2 detector. Andy shrugged, "What, you guys have a nice house, you could probably afford a twenty dollar reward for my efforts in reuniting a lost dog with its owners. I've already gone door to door for the last half hour. I deserve some compensation."

"That's selfish."

"It's not like I'm demanding money. That'd be like holding it ransom. I'm still being a good Samaritan."

"But you expect something in return."

"No, I want something in return, but I don't expect something in return. There is a difference."

"Where is this dog anyway?"

"Oh, I left it in my car. I didn't have a leash for it, and I didn't wanna carry him around. I think his owner was giving him too many doggy biscuits."

"Right... well, good luck with that. Hope you get your reward or whatever," he said and started to close the door.

Andy stopped the door with her foot, "Hey, wait, I have one more question."

The boy sighed, opening the door again, "Yeah?"

"Where'd you get your lawn gnome?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Seriously?"

"What, it's cute."

He poked his head out the door to look at it. "You should steal it. Thing is stupid looking."

"Wow, and you think I'm kind of messed up. You just told me to steal from your own family."

He shrugged, "I think it came with the house. It's all faded and creepy looking. Pretty sure my mom wouldn't notice or care if it went missing."

She scoffed, "Yeah, right, then the next thing you know, she'd start a neighborhood watch."

"Over a lawn gnome?" A loud beeping alarm went off behind him. "What the hell?"

"Oh, that doesn't sound good. Something burning?"

"I don't know... I'm not cooking," he said, looking behind him. "I better go."

"Be careful." She walked back down the driveway and waited for Sam to come out of the side gate, then they walked back down the block toward Dean. "Nice work."

"Same to you. Yorkie, huh?"

"Not bad for improvising, right?"

"Not bad at all. You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Served as a distraction while my partner in crime broke into someone's house? Yeah, that's what I do every Friday night." She grinned, "You were like a really tall ninja." She stopped at the corner. "I'm guessing that kid will call his dad about the alarm, dad will come home, then we can make our phone call."

It was less than five minutes before an SUV pulled into the driveway. "Looks like you were right. Time to make a phone call. You sure you're up for this?"

"After my performance back there? Yeah, this'll be a piece of cake." They walked to the end of the cul-de-sac and sat in the impala with Dean. Sam handed her a slip of paper with the house's phone number on it, and she dialed. When a man answered, she said in her most professional sounding tone of voice, "Hello, this is Allison with the Gas Company. We received an alert from your house regarding your CO2 detector."

"That's what that is? Uh... how bad is it?"

"Well, it could be a malfunction or a gas leak. We have a technician on the way to inspect it as we speak. Will you or someone else be home?"

"Yeah, we'll be here. Thanks."

"You're welcome, sir," she said and hung up when he did. Then, she handed Dean a clipboard with the fake paperwork he drew up that morning.

"I guess it's my turn," Dean said, starting the ignition. Sam and Andy stepped out of the car and started walking back down to the corner as Dean drove around the block to the house to park along the curb.

"That was fast." A man peered out the window before opening the door, surprised to see Dean's car instead of a company van. "Interesting work car."

"All the white vans were out for the day," Dean answered and smiled, holding his clipboard under his arm, "I'm with the gas company. I was told an alarm triggered here."

"That's what we've been told," he said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let Dean in. "Please, come in."

Dean looked around as he walked inside and made his way to the bedroom downstairs where the alarm was sounding, "Nice house."

"Thanks. It's a nice neighborhood too."

The man's wife came downstairs, "Is this him?"

Dean smiled, "Yep, it's me, your friendly neighborhood gasman."

"I guess that was a rude way to introduce myself... What's wrong with the gas?"

"I'm about to find out." He opened the cover on the CO2 detector to switch it off and closed it back up. "I'll have to take a look at your gas meters."

"Sure, they're around back," the man said, leading him through the kitchen into the backyard.

Dean knelt down in front of the meter and pretended to read the gauges. "This is bad. You definitely have a leak. Can I have a look in your kitchen?"

"Sure. I guess you'll want to have a look behind the stove," he said, leading Dean back into the kitchen.

"Yeah. Mind if I?" he pointed to the stove.

"Go right ahead." He watched as Dean pulled the stove away from the wall to inspect the gas line.

Dean stood up and nodded, "Well, you've got a leaky gas line. It's a good thing we caught it when we did because one spark and boom! Your house turns into a bigger fireworks display than the one at Disneyland."

"Wow, that bad?"

He wrote some notes down on his clipboard, "I'm going to need you to get your family out of the house for 24 hours while we fix this and air it out."

"Really? 24 hours?"

Dean could tell he was reluctant to leave and added, "Your hotel expenses will be reimbursed by up to $150 by the gas company. We'll give you a call tomorrow afternoon to sort it all out."

"Uh... okay. They do that? I never knew."

"We care about our customers," he smiled and put an X on the bottom line of the fake paperwork. "Can I get your signature here?"

"What's this for?"

"It just says I informed you of the leak and that you give me consent to be in your house without you here."

"Got it." He signed the paper and handed Dean back his clipboard.

"Great," Dean smiled, "I just have to go place a phone call and grab my tools."

"We'll get packed up," the man said and walked upstairs to inform his wife and kids about their impromptu vacation.

Dean retreated to the impala and called Sam. "The family totally bought it."

"Good. Are they leaving now?"

"They're getting packed up." He glanced out the passenger side window, "Hope they don't take too long."

"Well, you better make it look like you're working on it," Sam said, watching Dean from the corner.

Dean looked in the rearview mirror and saw him standing there. "Well, at least I don't look like I'm about to kidnap somebody."

Sam knit his brows and waved Andy over to stand beside him as he hung up.

Dean went around to the trunk for his duffle bag and his box of tools, hoping they wouldn't take a look inside and notice the tools were for fixing his car. He glanced back down the block at Sam and Andy playing the hand-slap game and shook his head as he walked back inside the house, through the kitchen, and out to the gas gauges. He didn't want to actually shut off the gas, but if they wanted to check up on him before they left, he might have to.

The man of the house stepped outside and chuckled, "My wife has to pack all her makeup and she's insisting on bringing her own shampoo. We'll be out of here in a few though."

Dean knelt down beside the gauges and pretended to show interest in the meters. He smirked, "At least she's not packing the whole closet, right?"

"She was going to, but then I told her, it's just one night. It's not a real vacation. I hope she doesn't talk me into staying all weekend. I hate hotels. The beds are too hard."

"Next time, look for a place with Magic Fingers. It'll make you wanna stay the whole weekend. Trust me."

"Daddy!" A little girl ran over to the doorway, "We're ready."

"Well, I guess we'll get out of your hair." The man held out his hand, and Dean shook it.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll have your place completely safe for you and the family when you get back," he smiled reassuringly. After he heard the front door close, he walked into the kitchen to watch them from the window and dialed Sam. "You didn't have a burrito today, did you?"

"What?"

"I promised to have their house gas free by the time they get back. And when you have a burrito... it kinda lingers for a day or two."

Sam rolled his eyes, "They just pulled out of the driveway. We're coming in." He hung up and walked with Andy down the street to the house and walked in through the front door. "We're thinking the attic, right?"

"Yeah, unless there's a basement too," Dean said, looking around.

"I don't think these houses were designed with basements," Andy said, leading them upstairs. She stopped at the top of the stairs and pushed the door open on her right, revealing an immaculate, white tiled bathroom.

"Is this it?" Sam asked.

"Yeah."

Dean switched on the EMF meter and walked past her to step inside. It showed no response. "You sure?"

"Pretty sure," she answered, walking down the hallway, past the bedrooms on the right, to a door at the end. She opened it and looked up inside the closet. "Huh, the pull string is gone. Sam?"

Sam brushed past her and reached up to open the attic door until it opened enough for him to pull the ladder down. He coughed at the dust that fell on him and brushed off his sleeve.

"Sorry, I should have given you one of these first," Andy said, handing him the dust mask before he climbed up the ladder. She handed one to Dean too before pulling the elastic around her head.

Dean set down his duffle bag and put the mask on. "You seem to know your way around here pretty well, Andrea."

"I came over a lot." She climbed up the ladder and looked around, "That's a lot of boxes."

"Yeah." Sam called down to Dean, "Bring the EMF up here and start scanning, maybe it'll emit something."

Dean unzipped the duffle bag and turned the EMF meter on as he carried it up, leaving the bag at the bottom of the ladder. The lights didn't flash past the first bulb until he stepped halfway into the room, and the needle moved back and forth. "Not a strong reading, but it's definitely nearby."

"It could be in any of these boxes," Andy said, turning in a circle to look at all of them. There were rows of boxes against each wall, stacked up on top of one another, at least thirty in all.

Sam moved to the back wall furthest from the ladder where there was a round window at the peak of the ceiling. "Good thing there are three of us. Let's start moving around boxes and opening them up."

"Wonder what's in these," Dean thought aloud. "Here's hoping we find some first edition comic books." He took out his pocket knife and cut the packing tape on his first box and opened it up, kicking up a cloud of dust. He squinted his eyes and fanned the air in front of his face before reaching inside and digging around. "Clothes. Great." He set the box down on his left, the start of a new pile.

Andy opened her first box on the wall to the right of Sam's and looked back at Dean, "Ha! I found the comic books!"

"What? Anything good?"

"Captain Atom, Green Arrow, some old Xmen. Nothing worth anything though. WHOA!" She held up a bag of Bazooka bubblegum. "Jackpot."

Dean chuckled, "How old is that? It's probably like a bag of rocks at this point."

"It was like a bag of rocks before it expired," she grinned and dropped the bag back in the box.

Sam held up an old game of Twister. "I found the board games."

Andy turned her head and looked at Sam's box. "We should keep some of those."

He couldn't tell if she was serious and handed her the game of Twister. "Knock yourself out."

"Oh, I will. Later."

Dean went through a few more boxes of clothes before coming to a box of photographs. "Hey," he called back to Andy, holding up a photograph. "Is this your friend and her family?"

She went over and took it, "No... Can I see those?"

He pushed the box over to the right, onto another pile of unopened boxes, but snatched up a picture from the pile. "Hey, Sammy, look at this." He held out a Polaroid of a grinning red-headed clown dressed in clashing blue, orange, and green, holding a rubber chicken and a tin bucket as he stood in front of a crowd of eight year olds.

Sam took one glance at the picture and rolled his eyes, then returned to digging through his boxes. "Keep scanning with the EMF meter."

"Ah, don't be like that." Dean stuffed the picture in his pocket to use against Sam later. He held out the EMF meter and moved around the room, scanning the piles of boxes individually. The lights showed a reading of three bulbs until he reached one of the bottom boxes on Sam's end, then the fourth light flickered noncommittally. "It might be in one of these."

Andy realized while they'd been making progress on more of their boxes, she'd become distracted with the box of photos. She slipped a handful of pictures into her jacket before helping them unload the piles of boxes from Sam's wall. The circular window no longer poured in sunlight, and they were left with only the artificial light from the 40 watt bulb hanging from the broken fixture on the ceiling.

Dean opened another box full of vintage toys and picked up a GI Joe. "Alright! Now we're talking."

Sam shook his head at Dean and pushed the box aside. "Come on, it's getting late. Keep looking."

Andy looked up from a box of tarnished silverware when she thought she heard the faint, distant sound of crying.

"I _am _looking," Dean grumbled, "Don't push my box."

"It's her," Andy stammered and rushed to the ladder, taking the steps down two at a time and discarding her face mask.

"Hey, wait-" Sam protested, nearly tripping over a box.

"Andy!" Dean called after her and handed Sam the EMF meter before turning to follow her. "Keep looking!" He stopped at the bottom of the ladder to pick up his shotgun and checked to make sure it was loaded, then pulled his mask down around his neck.

Andy ran down the hall and stopped outside the bathroom door, suddenly apprehensive about proceeding any further. She could hear the wretched sobs on the other side of the door, sounding as real and alive as herself. She slowly pushed the door open.

A woman with long, dark hair matted against her head was soaking in the bathtub filled to the rim with crimson stained water. The squeak of Andy's shoes against the tile as she walked inside seemed to catch her attention, and her head lolled along the back of the porcelain rim of the tub as she turned her head to look at Andy, weeping. Her arm hung limply over the side of the tub, dripping a steady stream of pink water on the floor to pool beneath her hand.

Kneeling down beside the bathtub, Andy bit her cheek, trying to suppress the anguish she felt as she murmured softly, "Mommy, don't be sad anymore. Don't cry."

Dean stopped when he heard what Andy said and stood at the threshold to the bathroom, staring at the spirit in the bathtub. He kept his finger poised on the trigger, but he was more concerned about Andy.

The spirit looked as solid as she had the day she died and croaked in a broken wail, "Why did you leave me, Andrea?"

Andy shook her head and tried to stand, but there wasn't only a dark cloud hanging heavily on her conscience, it was as if gravity was pushing her down, making her too weak to stand. "I didn't... You left me!"

"Don't leave me again, Andy. I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want to be sad," her mother pleaded, reaching out for her.

When her mother touched her cheek, the feelings of guilt she'd buried deep resurfaced, and grief stricken, her emotions amplified by her mother's own anguish, welled up inside of her, causing her to cry uncontrollably. The sorrow was so painful, she felt like her chest was being crushed under the weight of her emotions, and she wanted to hurt herself, to feel something other than this because nothing could hurt more. Then, she felt hands on her, lifting her up and dragging her out of the bathroom, but she couldn't work her legs to stand up on her own two feet.

"Andy!" Dean shook her gently after carrying her out into the hallway, and she crumbled in his arms, sobbing against his chest. He led her away from the bathroom, further down the hall, and she started to catch her breath.

She lifted her head to look back toward the bathroom, catching a glimpse of her mother's face staring back at her. "I've never felt that way," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "She made me feel what she feels." On top of her own guilt and grief, which she'd recognized, though she wouldn't admit it.

"Andy, think of fuzzy puppies and kittens, okay?" Dean advised. "Frolicking."

Andy sniffed and chuckled with a choked up sob, "My brain went straight to the ASPCA commercials."

"I hate those," Dean shook his head.

"_In the arms of the angel, fly away from here_..." Andy sang half-heartedly and wiped her eyes. "Goddamn it."

"Go back upstairs with Sam, okay?"

"No, I can't. I can't just leave her." She looked up at him, "I know it's stupid. But I have to talk to her."

"It's not stupid." He hated letting her close to it when it could wreak havoc on their emotions, strong enough to make weaker willed people off themselves, but he understood her need and why she had to go on this hunt. It was her mother. She was family. "But if she won't listen..." He wouldn't hesitate a second time to pull the trigger.

"I just want to try."

"I'm going to watch over you," he said, following her back to the bathroom. If her mother was reliving her death, he knew there was a chance Andy could free her.

She looked back at him before stepping back inside, "Dean, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know how."

"It's okay." He clenched his jaw, feeling the effects of being in her mother's presence again, like a heavy aura, even though he wasn't inside the bathroom. He tried to think of a happier time, spending the summer with Bobby or back when Sammy was small and still liked rocking out to Led Zeppelin. Thinking of those times could always bring him comfort, but he still couldn't block the feelings of guilt and shame he felt about his father. Dean shouted back over his shoulder, "SAM! HURRY UP AND FIND THAT THING!"

Andy stayed out of reach of her mother's touch and held onto the edge of the sink for support as the heaviness crept over her again. "Mom, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't go to you. But I loved you."

Her mother sat upright in the crimson water and looked at Andy, her face contorting in grief and anger as if she'd been betrayed, "Your father left me. And you left me. That hurt more."

"No," Andy slowly blinked away the tears welling up in her eyes. "You left us." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, sharing in her mother's grief and feelings of abandonment. Her mother. Her father. Wendy. Clint. Dean. She couldn't keep her friends, and she didn't keep her family, and she needed somebody to keep her. But everyone walked out on her. She always ended up alone. She'd tried to embrace it, but deep down, she knew she was lonely, and it scared her. "You need to let go. Let go of your sadness and move on. Please."

"Stay with me," her mother pleaded, rising from the tub and stepping onto the tile, revealing a long gash along her femoral artery. Andy knew from when she'd discovered her that she'd sliced her wrists open, but she hadn't known about the laceration in her thigh.

Andy stumbled back, and Dean caught her, holding up the sawed off shotgun, ready to dissipate her mother's spirit. Andy shook her head and bit her cheek, "I'm leaving. But I'm going to make sure you leave too."

"Andy!" Her mother cried out, reaching for her, and Dean pulled the trigger.

The sound reverberating off the bathroom walls jolted Andy, and she squeezed Dean's arm. "I don't know what I could say."

"Andy, it's okay," Dean reassured her, "You said all you could."

"Let's find that stupid razor," she said, going back to the attic.

Sam threw his arms up, "I've scanned everything. It's not up here."

"It has to be up here!" Dean growled, "Did you check the box with the silverware?"

"Yeah, I checked," Sam retorted defensively, "It's just forks and spoons." Sam looked at Andy concerned, noticing how red her eyes were, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Andy turned in a circle, thinking, "There's a bedroom downstairs. How far does that EMF reader reach?"

Sam exchanged looks with Dean, "If it's directly below us, it could ping the reader."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" Dean started back down the ladder first and shoved the bedroom door open. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where they were standing in relation to the bedroom and opened the closet's double doors. He started rummaging through the boxes they'd stored on the shelf above the clothing rack. Andy went around the closet through another door leading to the master bath, and Sam scanned the closet with the EMF reader.

When Andy came back to join them, the EMF reader in Sam's hand pinged at full power, and she held up the razor. "It was in the medicine cabinet."

"So, this guy has actually been using it?" Dean took the antique razor and examined it, opening the blade and scratching at the hinges with his fingernail. "You don't think we need to melt the thing down, do you? I mean, he would have cleaned it, right? But we were counting on some dried blood on it, some DNA."

Sam took it from him. "Let's just throw it in the fireplace to be safe. It might take a while to destroy it, but it should work. We'll throw some salt on it for safe measure."

"That'll purify it?" Andy asked, "What'll happen to my mom?"

Sam looked up at her and exchanged looks with Dean. Now he understood why she'd been looking into the house for years.

"It'll put to her rest, so she can move on," Dean said. Truth was, he wasn't entirely sure what happened to the spirits after they were put down, whether they found some afterlife or that was it. He picked up his duffle bag before they walked back down the hallway.

Andy could hear her mother weeping in the bathroom again as they hurried down the stairwell. They went over to the fireplace in the living room and started a fire, then waited until the flames were dancing on the logs and the embers were glowing red before they threw the razor in. After a few minutes, Andy heard her mother's shrill scream echo through the house as she disintegrated, and she knew that she was gone. The heaviness that had been weighing on them was lifted, but there were still emotional scars that she'd reopened, and Andy couldn't help worrying that her mother hadn't moved on to a better place.

"Let's get out of here," Dean said, leading them out.

Andy sat in the back seat and stared out the window at her old house.

Sam looked over his shoulder at her, but he wasn't going to ask again if she was okay. He knew she wasn't.

"I'm glad you didn't attempt this one alone..." Dean said, putting the car into gear and turning them around to take them back into town.

"You guys can drop me off at the motel," Sam said.

Dean nodded and patted his pockets, "Damn it. I must have dropped the GI Joe."

Sam smirked and pulled it out of his pocket, "You mean this one? Finders keepers, losers weepers."

Dean pointed at him, "I'll let you hold onto it for now, but I'm getting it back later."

Andy chuckled, her mood lightened by their banter.

After dropping off Sam and returning to Andy's apartment, Dean went to the refrigerator for a beer and joined her on the couch. She curled up beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"When we were in there, did she affect you?" Andy asked. She'd been so consumed by her own feelings that she hadn't given his much thought. At the time, he seemed so calm and collected, ready to save her at any given moment. But she couldn't imagine her mother's presence only affected her.

The ghost's emotional manipulation had drudged up his self-loathing and grief, but the wounds were still so fresh that she couldn't really make him feel any worse than he'd already become accustomed to feeling since his father died. "Barely," he answered, finally.

She looked up at him, and she could tell he was lost in thought. He was tense even as he drank his beer. "I'm sorry," she said. She didn't want to bring him into that, and she knew something was on his mind. "But I'm glad you were there."

He pulled her closer and looked down at her, "What happened? Why did she blame you?"

She looked down at her hand resting on his thigh and sighed, "My mom wasn't always unhappy, but for the last few years I knew her, she was. She and my father would argue a lot. They just stopped getting along. My dad started working late, and my mom starting getting suspicious. Every time he missed dinner and called to say he'd be late, she would lie in bed with a bottle of wine and cry herself to sleep. I'd always go try to cheer her up. But that last time, when she was in the bathroom crying, I didn't try to cheer her up... I just rolled over and went to sleep."

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said, knowing he couldn't follow his own advice. "How old were you?"

"Nine," she answered. "I blamed my dad most of the time. I found out later she'd called him and found out that she was right about him having an affair. I woke up in the middle of the night to sirens and police lights flashing through my windows. My dad didn't even bother to wake me up. So, while he was downstairs talking to the police, I went to the bathroom and found my mom."

Dean gave her arm a gentle squeeze as he thought about his own childhood. "When my mom died... I stood outside the nursery and took Sammy. But I saw her," he admitted, "burning."

She didn't look up at him but pressed her cheek against his chest.

"Where's your dad now?" Dean asked.

"He put the house up for sale after mom died, and it sold within six months. We moved in with his girlfriend, and I wasn't close with him anymore after that. He still tried to be because I was his only child, but as soon as I could go to college, I moved into the dorms at the university, and we fell out of touch for a long time. He moved to New York with her, so it wasn't very hard." She looked up at him and shrugged, "Part of me still misses him, but I can never forgive him."

"Forgiving... that's the hard part. What would you say to him now if you picked up the phone and called him?"

She rested her head against him again. "I don't know. Whenever I used to try to talk about mom, he wouldn't have it."

That sounded all too familiar to Dean too. He'd learned that talking about his mother was off limits with his dad, and eventually, it became off limits to him too if Sam ever asked about her. He and his father both saw what happened to her, and neither of them could deal with it.

"I guess after all my efforts to push him away, it worked," she frowned. "I really can't feel sorry for myself when I'm the one that left." Hearing the words come out of her mouth didn't sooth how hurt she felt, nor did they curb her resentment toward her father. She felt like he'd given up on her.

"I think you should call him. Not right now, but... when you're up to it." He leaned forward to set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table and lifted her chin to kiss her lips. "Maybe you should get some sleep. It's late, and you might feel better in the morning."

She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded, hoping the gaping hole she felt inside would feel less empty in the morning.

The next morning, Andy woke up and raised her head from where she'd nestled it into the crook of Dean's shoulder and watched him sleep. She'd hoped she would wake up without the weight of the previous day's emotional baggage, but she knew he would leave her again soon. She had signed up for it because she was accustomed to the solitude and the goodbyes, but she realized now how much she hated it. She hated saying goodbye. And unlike dating a marine, Dean's tour of duty was indefinite. Even though the time they'd spent together physically only amounted to a little more than a week, she'd spent months becoming emotionally invested in him as she got to know him better. When she thought he'd left her (or worse, that he could have died,) it broke her heart, but knowing he was still alive reignited her feelings for him.

His eyelids fluttered open and he blinked away the sleep blurring his vision before focusing on her. "How are you feeling?" he asked sleepily and rotated his stiff shoulder.

She felt a lump in her throat as she tried to formulate an answer, but she could only think one thing, so she blurted it out. "I love you." She could see by the look on his face that he didn't expect that, and it woke him right up. She didn't want to pressure him to return her affection, so she quickly added, "I just wanted to tell you before you leave. I almost missed my chance before."

Dean propped himself up on his elbow and leaned into her as he pulled her into a kiss. The only other girl he'd fallen in love with was Cassie, and he hadn't told her so in so many words, which at the time, he thought might have contributed to her leaving him. He wouldn't make the same mistake with Andrea. "I love you, too." The words sounded strange coming out of his mouth. He wasn't in the habit of saying them.

She was relieved to hear him say it, even though she already knew how he felt. But her joy was overshadowed by the dread of his leaving.

He looked worried. "What's wrong? Are you still thinking about your parents?"

"No, I just know it won't be long before I'm watching you drive away again. I'm tired of being alone."

He put his arm around her as he sat upright and kissed her hair, "I can't stop." His father's last words resounded in his mind, reminding him of his responsibilities. His reunion with Andy was supposed to be a brief distraction from his job, but he realized how selfish he was being.

"I know. I'm not asking you to." Dean's phone rang, the familiar guitar riff looping as it vibrated against the headboard, and Andy groaned.

Dean reached back and flipped it open, "What."

Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised at how grouchy Dean sounded. He knew if he were interrupting something, Dean would have just let the phone go to voicemail. "Somebody having a case of the Mondays?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to sound more affable, "What is it, Sammy?"

"I got a call from Ellen. What do you say we swing by the roadhouse?"

"'Swing by'? I can't move faster than the speed of light, Sammy." Dean turned and picked up his boots off the floor to put them on.

"Alright, so it's a twenty hour drive. We'll switch off, make it there by tomorrow night."

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Andy, and he knew she could hear what Sam said. If she was trying to mask her disappointment, it wasn't working. "What's the hurry?"

"She has a lead for us."

"On what exactly?"

"She didn't say." Sam cleared his throat, "Well, I didn't ask. I thought we'd just show up."

Andy slipped her arms around Dean's waist and rested her head against his shoulder. Dean covered her hand with his, lost in thought.

"Dean? You there?" Sam asked on the other end.

"Yeah. How do you feel about Andy joining us?"

Andy's head jerked up from where it was resting on his shoulder, and her thoughts started racing, _Did he just invite me? Does he really want me to go or does he just feel sorry for me? What will I pack? Crap, I just paid a security deposit on that new apartment... wonder if I can get it back. _

Sam paused, "Are you serious?"

"Damn right I am. We've seen her in action, we know she's got what it takes..." He added with a smirk, "and if she doesn't, then she could do our laundry and place phone calls so nobody recognizes our voices."

Andy grinned. She'd be okay with that if she were a liability. But she wouldn't get in the way. She'd make sure of that.

"Dude. Just yesterday you said she's not supposed to be hunting," Sam reminded him.

"I changed my mind."

Sam wasn't sure what Dean was thinking. "You know what kind of danger we'd be placing her in. Don't you think she'd just distract you?"

"We won't put her into any situations she's not ready for."

"You really think she can watch out for herself? I just don't want her to distract you because you feel like you constantly need to go out of your way to protect her. It's hard enough protecting ourselves."

"Hey, I go out of my way to pull your ass out of the fire all the time," Dean quipped.

Andy jumped out of bed and pulled open the double doors to her closet, then hauled out a leather case and unzipped it. She lifted up her dad's rifle and scope. "Should I bring this?"

Dean's eyes widened, "Sammy, she's got a rifle with a scope. She'll be fine." He covered the microphone with his hand and said to her, "I'm sure we can make room for it in the trunk."

"She does? ...Why?" Sam shook his head and shrugged, knowing he didn't really have a choice in the matter. If he protested again, Dean would play the 'I'm the oldest' card to have his way. "Okay, fine. If you think it's a good idea, then we can give her a trial period."

Dean gave her a thumbs up and winked. "I'm sure everything will work out okay. We'll see you in a bit." He hung up and set the phone back down on the headboard.

"He said okay!?" Andy grinned.

"Yeah. Well, he said he'll give you a trial period... like you're trying out for a friggin' sports team or something."

She beamed, "I need to pack. I can probably store my books and whatever else I want to save in my car and park it in a storage unit. I'll just leave the furniture here." She climbed onto Dean's lap and kissed him before excitedly going back to her closet for her suitcase. "Help me carry those boxes I packed to my car? Please?"

He chuckled, "Sure."

They spent the next hour stuffing boxes into the backseat and trunk of her car, puzzling them together like tetris pieces to make them all fit. She didn't want to make a second trip. She reasoned not to keep things that wouldn't be too expensive to buy again later at IKEA. After packing the car and paying a six month advance on a storage unit, she called the landlord of her new apartment and let him know she wouldn't be moving in after all. Then, they picked up Sam and started driving to Nebraska.

Andy settled into the backseat with her laptop, resting her back against the door and stretching her legs out. "I'll be working while you drive."

"I'll be taking a nap," Sam said, tucking his head between the seatback and his shoulder as he closed his eyes.

Dean turned the music down on the radio and glanced at Andy through the rearview mirror, "What are you working on?"

"Oh, I'm working on this ghost story. I'm about halfway through it. It's kind of a tragic love story, but it follows two plotlines, one in the present between the ghost hunters and one in the past between the ghosts." She added, "At the time I started this, I didn't know about salting and burning the bones. These 'cleaners' would have a much easier job if they went that route."

"Did you also know that stakes to the heart of a vampire don't work?"

"I didn't know that. But I actually changed the way they die in my novel because I wanted something different. So, I went with cutting off their head and hanging them upside down to drain," she said and cleared her throat. "So, how do you kill a vampire for real?"

"Cut their head off," he said and smirked, "Hanging them upside down just sends them the message 'Get the hell out of dodge because I'm crazy.'"

She laughed, "Alright, so overkill. To be fair, the person that did it in the novel _was _crazy."

"There's all kinds of ways to do it in vampire lore. Oh, another thing to know is that a dead man's blood is like poison to those leeches."

"Like in Anne Rice novels then."

"Also, their fangs come out of their gums. Ever play Mortal Kombat? They look like that guy with the blades coming out of his forearms."

"Baraka," Sam said, without lifting his head.

"I used to whoop Sam's butt in that game at the arcade," Dean grinned.

Sam looked up at him with half lidded eyes, "Yeah, but who whooped you at Street Fighter?"

"That's an Asian game, doesn't count," Dean shook his head dismissively.

Sam squinted his eyes and shook his head at that absurd logic.

Dean grinned at Andy through the rearview mirror again, "Wait til you meet Ash. Guy has a mullet, but he makes Sam look like a 3rd grader. In the smarts department," he clarified, "he'd have to be a giant to do that physically."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Sam said, closing his eyes again. "Don't forget about Ellen and Jo."

"I look forward to meeting all of them," Andy said, looking out the window at the road signs. They still had a long way to go.

Dean turned up the volume on the radio as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.

_ There's a place up ahead and I'm goin'_

_ Just as fast as my feet can fly_

_ Come away, come away if you're goin'_

_ Leave the sinkin' ship behind_

_ Come on the risin' wind_

_ We're goin' up around the bend._


	4. Riders on the Storm

Riders on the Storm | **43**

**Disclaimer: **_This is a work of fanfiction using characters from CW's Supernatural. I am not affiliated with CW nor do I claim ownership of any part of Supernatural. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported to be canon. _

_Song credits: The Doors - Riders on the Storm; AC/DC - If you want blood (you got it); Foghat - Slow Ride; Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere _

_Note: This chapters takes place __2 sometime after episode 4, probably in early January._

**Supernatural**

**Chapter 4**

**"Riders on the Storm"**

Andy sat up in the backseat of the impala, blinking away the sleep in her eyes. It was the early afternoon, and Sam was asleep in the front seat. She watched Dean in the rearview mirror. She'd seen that somber look on him before. Curious, she asked, "What are you thinking about?"

He hadn't realized she was awake and gave her a smile that didn't meet his eyes, "We're almost there."

She leaned over the back of his seat to kiss his cheek and stretched as she sat back and put on her seatbelt. "That's not what you were thinking about."

He'd been replaying his father's last words to him in the hospital over and over again, wondering what they portended. He'd also realized how impulsive he had been in inviting Andy along, and he was just as surprised at how easily she uprooted herself to follow him. He had to protect both of them, and he had no idea what was coming.

"So, what's on your mind?" she prodded gently.

"Nothing important," he answered and smirked, "Just wondering if the chicken or the egg came first."

She hoped he would open up to her about it eventually. "The egg came first," she replied, deadpan, "Chickens evolved from raptors."

Dean grinned, "Jurassic Park!"

Sam lifted his head, taking a deep breath as he straightened up in his seat, and looked out the window. "We're here already?"

"Hey, sleeping beauty. Rise and shine." Dean took the turn off onto a dirt road and parked outside the roadhouse. He pocketed his keys as he stepped out of the car and opened the back door for Andy. When she groaned, he asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah, long road trips will take some getting used to. My legs are stiff. I feel like I need to run in circles."

"That's why I spend most of the time sleeping or reading," Sam said, walking up to the porch.

"It's not so bad." Dean held the door open, "But I could use a drink."

"Howdy, boys," Ellen looked up from her newspaper when Sam walked in, then tilted her head at Andy before shooting Dean a look. "And girl."

"Hey, Ellen," Sam smiled back at her and took a stool at the bar.

Andy took a seat next to him and offered Ellen a crooked smile, "Uh, hi, I'm Andy."

"She's a hunter," Dean added. At first glance, one probably wouldn't guess by the clothes she was wearing. Andy wore her yoga pants with a tank top and sneakers for comfort's sake on the long drive.

"Nice to meet'cha," Ellen smiled before handing them each a beer. She wouldn't have believed it but knew Dean wouldn't joke about it. She studied Andy for a moment before asking, "Where did you meet the boys at?"

"On a job," Andy answered and tried to sound matter of fact about it, "Incubus."

Sam smirked and lifted the beer to his lips because he didn't want to be glared at by Dean or questioned by Ellen about what he found so funny. _That's one way of putting it_, he thought.

Andy knew what he was thinking and elbowed him, "Hey, I helped kick its ass, and don't forget what it cost me. I deserve a little credit."  
Sam looked innocent, "I didn't say anything."

"What did it cost you?" Ellen asked.

Dean was ready to intervene, but Andy answered before he could change the subject, "A priceless book."

"Oh, it had a price..." Sam caught himself thinking aloud and cleared his throat.

"I hate you right now," Andy said, narrowing her eyes at him, then smiled.

"How long have you been hunting?" Ellen asked. She was suspicious, but she tried to sound like she was making small talk, rather than being nosy.

"It's a trap," Jo warned her, coming in through the back door with two cases of beer in hand. "Don't answer."

Ellen shot Jo a disapproving look. "Andy, meet Jo... my daughter."

Jo set the beer down behind the counter and smiled. "Nice to meet you." She looked at Sam and Dean. "Long drive?"

"I think my butt fell into a coma," Dean answered.

"Maybe you should walk it off." She leaned against the counter and turned back to Andy, curious, "So, you're a hunter, huh? What's your last name?" Jo tried to familiarize herself with the hunter community the best she could being cooped up in Nebraska. A lot of hunters passed through, but there were plenty who didn't that she had learned about through the Hunter's Blog.

"Kimber," Andy answered, unsure why it mattered.

Jo knitted her brows, "Your name sounds familiar."

"Oh, really?" Ellen was earnestly surprised.

Dean interrupted, "She's got herself a famous last name, but we're not here to fill out family trees. What's the lead?"

"Famous?" Jo raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not famous," Andy rolled her eyes.

Ellen turned around and picked up a folder she'd tucked behind the counter. "A hunter came through here the other day-"

"He was new," Jo added.

Ellen shot her another look that said 'don't interrupt me.'

Jo put her hands up and rolled her eyes as she turned away. "Sorry."

Ellen plopped the folder down on the counter for them to read. "His name is Jasper. He said he was investigating a series of mysterious deaths and disappearances over in Tennessee and he needed to lay low because someone was stalking him."

Sam opened the folder, "Someone from the case he was working?"

"He seemed to think so. He decided to drop the case. I figured you guys might want it."

"Thanks for thinking of us," Dean grinned and took a swig of his beer. "Where is this guy now?"

"He fell off the grid," Jo answered and exchanged looks with her mother. "We think something might have caught up to him."

"It could just be a serial killer," Dean shrugged.

Andy looked worried. "Do we draw the line at serial killer?"

Sam was scanning the articles Jasper pulled together. "We stick to the supernatural stuff and let the cops handle the rest unless we're forced to deal with them."

"Got it."

Ash came out from his room in back, reaching under his tank top to scratch an itch under his armpit. "Well, long time no see, you two." He rested his elbow on the counter and picked up Dean's half-finished beer to take a drink.

"Hey Ash...feel free to have some of my beer. No problem," Dean looked at him and smiled.

"Don't mind if I do..." Ash looked past Dean at Andy. "Well, who is this?"

"Andy," she smiled. "I've heard about you. Business in the front, party in the back."

"Damn right, girl." He flipped his mullet back. "I like you."

Sam sighed, "This guy's notes are all a mess."

Dean offered, "If it's too tough for you to figure out, we could always ask Ash-"

"No," Sam answered quickly and flashed a smile, "I got it." He unfolded a tattered a map and looked at the red circles marking the locations of bodies, then continued looking through the newspaper clippings.

Ash finished off Dean's beer and set the empty bottle down before asking Andy, "So, you're new, right? You have any fake ID's yet?"

She paused, wondering what gave her away, and decided it had to be her attire. "I do not."

"We'll hit up a Kinko's later," Sam said. "We were in a hurry to get over here and see what we were missing."

"Hell, I can do it for you. Gimme your ID and about 50 minutes. I'll have you set up, no charge."

"Wow, really?" Andy's eyes lit up and she dug through her purse for her wallet. "Thank you!"

"No problemo," Ash said, taking her driver's license and looking it over.

Before Ash could return to his man-cave, Dean stopped him and whispered something in his ear.

Sam held up one of the newspaper clippings. "Look at this. One of the victims had puncture marks on their neck. Suspected animal attack."

"You'd think they'd try to be inconspicuous and bite somewhere else," Andy said.

Sam gave her a confused look.

"Well, I mean... you know, to avoid getting the attention of you guys..." She shrugged, "So, we're looking at vampires, right?"

Sam exchanged looks with Dean. "Could be. But vampires aren't the only things that drink blood or bite people."

"This is the part where we go out and look at the bodies," Dean said.

"Alright, I'm betting it's a by-the-book vampire, then," Andy said.

Sam smirked and shook his head, "I don't know enough to take that bet."

Dean added, "There could be a nest, but vamps don't usually kill this many in such a short time. Not unless they want hunters swarming them."

"They could just be dumb," Andy reasoned, "Or new to the whole undead gig?"

"So, how long have you been hunting?" Ellen asked again, this time with a more demanding tone. "This isn't your first, is it?"

"No," Andy answered, pushing her beer over to Dean. "Fourth."

"Fourth? I reckon you should just wait here for them to return," Ellen offered, "I have a spare room out back you're welcome to stay in."

"Don't worry about it," Dean insisted. "We won't put her in any situations we don't think she can handle."

"And how many hunters have you trained?"

"I... uh... I trained Sam."

Sam looked at him, "Dean... Potty training doesn't count."

He looked away, picking up his beer, "Shut up."

"Wait," Jo looked at her. "You're a writer, aren't you?"

Dean nudged Andy with his elbow, "And you said you aren't famous."

"I'm not."

Ellen raised her eyebrows, "Jo?"

Jo popped the cap off a bottle of beer and set it on the table in front of Andy since she'd surrendered hers to Dean. "She wrote a vampire novel called Written in Blood, but it's completely fictional. I mean, it's not based on real vampires... It's more like-"

"Don't say it," Andy interrupted.

Jo paused, "If you thought I was going to say Twilight, I wasn't. I was thinking more along the lines of Interview with a Vampire."

Andy gave a sigh of relief, even though she didn't particularly like being compared to other authors, even those as respectable as Anne Rice.

"But I'm curious, why didn't you write something more accurate? I mean, don't you think it would help young hunters if they're trying to do some research? You're just throwing them off track."

"Well, my books were just intended to be entertaining, not educational. Who looks in the erotic horror section of the library for research?"

Jo tilted her head, "Well, considering most lore on vampires, whether it's real or not, is considered fictional, we have to look everywhere. I'm not trying to knock your books, I'm just surprised is all. I read a lot, and it's hard to find reliable sources. You're a hunter and a writer, you could be a huge help to the community."

Ellen added, "Vampires are real monsters, not romantic creatures like in your novels."

"I know. They have Baraka teeth." Andy tried not to sound exasperated and added pointedly, "I did say to cut off their heads to kill them. Isn't that the important part?"

Ellen knew she was being overbearing and decided to take a step back. "Well, I can't stop y'all. You're a grown up, you can make your own decisions."

"What about me?" Jo said, looking at her, "I'm a grown up."

"You're my daughter. That's different." Ellen sighed, "But could I have a word with you alone, Andy? Then, I promise I won't try to stop you anymore."

"Sure." Andy followed Ellen around the counter and out back.

Jo shook her head and smiled at Dean, "Oh, here we go. I've received this talk a hundred times."

"I bet. Your mom really makes you feel like you're about to be put in time out. It's scary."

Ellen crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and settled her hands on her hips. She didn't want to look imposing. "Whose idea was it for you to become a hunter?"

"Mine," Andy answered, even if Dean had some say in it.

"Why? Why do you want to join this fight?" Ellen hated to see her go down the road her husband took that led to his death. The same road her daughter wanted to follow. "To be a hero, to write a book? For a boy?"

Andy bit her lip, unsure what the correct answer would be.

"My advice? Be normal, use your imagination, find somebody else. Once you start down this road, there's no turning back."

"I've already started," Andy said.

"It's not too late," Ellen urged. "You might not know this, Andy, but most hunters don't have a choice. Every single one of them has a tragic story, a reason for them to fight. And it's in their blood. Dean and Sam, they're not the first in their family. They couldn't leave this life if they wanted to." She shook her head, thinking of John and her late husband, Bill. "You see, it follows you."

"What about Jo?" As soon as she asked, Andy could tell she struck a nerve and regretted it.

"A lot of hunters come through, and she likes listening to their stories. And she has memories of her daddy coming home from hunts when she was a little girl. She idolized him. She has a lot of big ideas about what the life is like... but she doesn't know what she'd be getting herself into."

Andy had the feeling Jo knew exactly what she was getting herself into and that her mother was just being protective. "Thanks for the advice, Ellen, really," Andy said. "I appreciate that you want what's best for me. But this is something I want to do."

"Okay," she conceded and opened the door back to the bar. "Just be careful. Don't let them drag you into something you're not ready for. I mean it... Don't let them put you in danger."

Andy took her seat between Sam and Dean and exchanged looks with a knowing Jo.

Ash came back out with a handful of ID cards. "Here's FBI, Health Inspector, US Wildlife Service, Tennessee Coroner's Office, Carroll County Sheriff's Department. You'll have to get the metal badges yourself."

Andy looked at her ID's, listing them off as she went through them, "Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Stevie Nicks, Tina Turner, and Patti Smith?"

Dean grinned, quite pleased with himself.

"Where's Diana Ross?" Andy gave Dean a look.

Ash pointed, "I can do that. Oh, and here's a Tennessee driver's license, since that's where you guys are headed. It says you're Latina. Thought I'd spice things up a bit."

"Selena Perez? Ha!" Andy grinned and gave Ash a big hug. "Muchas gracias! You're amazing."

Sam couldn't help thinking hugging Ash would be unpleasant and kind of smelly. He glanced at Jo. She looked amused by the whole exchange, but he wondered if she wanted to be in Andy's place, on the road, hunting things, saving people. Not to mention being closer to Dean.

"De nada, senorita. I always deliver," Ash patted her back.

"Well, ready to go investigate some murders?" Dean asked, standing up.

Sam closed the folder in front of him. "Yeah. Looks like it's gonna be another long drive. We're goin' to Tennessee."

Andy nodded, "I've never been there, but I hear they have a lot of brown recluse spiders."

Sam looked at her quizzically.

"What?"

"We're going to fight vampires or some other neck biting monster and you're worried about a spider?"

Ash interjected, "Hey, those things will rot your hand off."

"See," Andy crossed her arms.

Dean added, "Vampires can't hide in your shoes, Sammy."

Sam surrendered, "My turn to drive? We could probably pull it off in one leg."

"Twelve hours going the speed limit," Ash accurately surmised.

Dean shrugged, "We'll knock it down to nine."

"Let me know how it goes," Ellen said.

"And maybe you should start a blog," Jo suggested, looking at Andy.

"I will definitely start a blog," Andy grinned.

Dean decided to drive, even though he'd driven the majority of the last twenty hours. "So, what did Ellen have to say?"

"Just that I'm making a big commitment. She made it sound like more of a curse than a lifestyle."

"She's right," Sam said, looking over his shoulder at her.

"If I hang out with you guys, am I going to end up with a target on my back? Because she made it sound like there is no normal after joining you."

"I wouldn't go that far, but it depends. I mean, you could become paranoid, start seeing things other people don't see. Like how we read the newspaper and see patterns of supernatural behavior that other people can't make heads or tails of."

"What does it depend on?"

"Well, if you become a well known hunter, some things might have it out for you."

"So, then, I'd be looking over my shoulder all the time?"

Dean looked at her through the rearview mirror, " You probably don't have to worry about that with spirits. Burn their bones and they're gone for good. That's more of an issue if you have a lot of run ins with vampires or shape shifters."

"Or demons," Sam added.

"Or demons," he echoed grimly. "I think you'll make one hell of a hunter though. You could use a different name when interacting with other hunters if you wanna be extra careful."

"I need be extra careful around other hunters?" she asked, confused.

Dean shrugged, "Sometimes."

Sam looked at him, "We should stop at a motel. We drove non-stop to get here."

"I could use a shower and a real sleep. In a bed," Andy added, then leaned forward to sniff Dean. "And you're a little funky. Time for a shower."

Dean scoffed, a little embarrassed, "That's not funk, that's my... musk. It's manly." He opened his jacket to quickly sniff himself.

Sam snorted at the face Dean made and pointed at the sign up ahead. "There's a motel at the next exit."

They stopped at the Bandwagon Motel, which advertised Magic Fingers for 25 cents and color TV. When they walked into the room, it had a rustic feel about it with wood paneled walls decorated by horse shoes, an iron wheel, and old photographs of settlers in covered wagons. The room's furniture was stained oak, but the blue carpets clashed with the rest of the decor.

Andy dropped her bag on the floor beside theirs and grabbed a change of clothes. "First dibs on the shower!"

Dean started stacking quarters he found in his pockets beside the Magic Fingers while Sam removed his boots and relaxed in the bed nearest the bathroom.

Sam opened his laptop and turned his head to look at Dean when the bed started whirring and vibrating. "Dean, are you sure about this? Maybe Ellen was right. I mean, I get that you like her, but why would you want this life for her? I would never have roped Jessica into this."

Dean held his hand up. "Don't ruin this for me."

Sam rolled his eyes and checked his email. Ten minutes later, when the Magic Fingers stopped, he forgot he'd started a conversation with Dean until he picked up where it left off.

"Sammy, her eyes are already open, and she can put up a fight. I didn't rope her into anything. She wants this."

"Are you sure about that? Or is she just doing it to be close to you?"

"I'm sure about it. Trust your big brother on this one."

"And what if things don't work out between you two? She might be trained to be a hunter, but she'll be used to having us to back her up. As soon as she goes out on a hunt on her own, if she doesn't quit right then, she'd probably find herself in a lot of trouble. It's not just a big commitment on her part, it's on you too. Do you really like her that much? Because if you did, I think you'd want to protect her."

Dean sat up, raising his voice. "I'm not you, Sam. I am protecting her. I'm teaching her about the big bad monsters in her closet while keeping an eye on her. You think I don't know it's a big commitment? I know the risks, and I'm not making this choice lightly."

"Is _she_? Talk to her about it." When Andy came out of the bathroom in her PJ's with a towel wrapped around her head, Sam set his laptop aside and stood up. "I'm gonna go get a soda."

Andy bent forward, wringing the towel around her hair and rubbing her head before folding the towel and setting it down on the counter. She looked at Dean, noticing the pensive look on his face. "Everything okay?"

Dean was grumpy. "Yeah, peachy."

She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed and kissed his cheek. "What's wrong? Why did Sam make himself scarce?"

He withheld a sigh and looked at her, answering her question with a question. "Why did you want to become a hunter?"

Andy frowned, "Is this about what Ellen said?"

"Mostly." He also thought it was about Jessica, but he didn't want to bring that up.

She hesitated, "Well, selfish reasons, I guess. I don't have a personal vendetta against monsters, but I know they're out there now. I can't just pretend they don't exist anymore. The more I learn, the better I can prepare and protect myself from them. I also don't want to feel like a civilian dating a soldier." She knew she was rambling and admitted, "Mostly, I want to be with you and help you." She almost threw her hands up, realizing how corny a reason that might be, and knew Ellen would have said, 'I knew it!' She kept talking to defend herself before he could tell her it was the wrong reason. "I get it, that it's a huge lifestyle change and that I'm putting myself in danger. I'm okay with that as long as I can settle down someday. For all her talk, I did notice Ellen has a daughter, so it's not like I can't have some semblance of normal in my future."

Dean cracked a bittersweet smile and put his arm around her. "I want you with us." He kissed her, "Besides, it makes it easier to explain why I come home looking like I've been beat to hell and back."

Sam let himself back into the room, drinking a soda.

"So," Andy changed the subject, "I've never felt the Magic Fingers before."

"You're in for a treat," Dean grinned, reaching over for his quarters. He looked at the empty space on the bedside table where he'd stacked them.

Sam slurped his soda.

Dean glared, "Sam! Those were my quarters!"

Sam grinned and shrugged, "Sorry."

Dean grabbed Sam's wallet off the table and took a five dollar bill out of it. "I'm gonna see if I can get some change. This oughta do it." He tossed Sam his wallet, hitting him in the chest with it, then went to the lobby.

Sam pulled a T-shirt and underwear from his bag to wear to bed after his shower. "You may want to invest in a pair of earplugs. I guarantee you won't be able to sleep with the rattling the bed makes."

"Is it really that bad? Seems like it relaxes him." She fell back on the bed and rolled over on her side, "Hey, Sam..."

"Yeah?"

"I may not know everything that I'm getting into, but I think I'm ready. And if I get in the way, I'll stay out of it. But give me a chance, okay?"

He looked over at her, "Yeah... okay." He walked over to the bathroom and stopped in the doorway. "I just don't want to see either of you get hurt." He'd already lost Jessica and his father. He was tired of losing, and he didn't want Dean to experience what he did.

"I know."

Dean returned with a handful of quarters. "Are you ready for 2nd best bed experience you'll ever have?"

Andy chuckled, "Ready!"

When Dean popped in a quarter and pushed the button to turn it on, the bed started vibrating, and he lay back with his hands behind his head.

Andy jittered, "Whoa." She noticed how boyishly happy it made Dean and rested her head on his shoulder as she looked up at the ceiling.

"Best invention known to man," he said.

When Sam came out of the shower, the bed was still vibrating. "Dean, seriously, only fifteen minutes. We need to sleep."

"Let the rattling lull you to sleep like the hum of a car engine," Andy said.

"It doesn't bother you?"

"After the first ten minutes, I got used to it, but I don't think I could sleep through it." When the vibrating stopped, Andy nudged Dean. He'd almost fallen asleep. "Dean, your turn to take a shower."

He grunted and rolled out of bed, sleepy and relaxed.

Early the next morning, Dean took the wheel and drove to Carroll, Tennessee, stopping only for gas and lunch from the convenience store. They checked into their motel room by mid afternoon with enough time to begin their investigation.

Sam and Dean changed into their suits. On the way to the morgue, they dropped Andy off at the nearest mall. She had packed light when she left San Diego, deeming most of her wardrobe inappropriate for hunting. At the top of her shopping list was a suit and a pair of boots, but she knew she could use a jacket now that she was leaving the comfortable climate of southern California.

Dean flashed his badge at the coroner when he looked up from the body he was performing an autopsy on. "Agent Gillan. This is my partner, Agent Tate. We're investigating a series of recent murders and wanted to see some of the bodies." Dean glanced at the embroidered patch on the coroner's lab coat, which read Miles.

Miles' eyes flashed back and forth between them, and he gave them a twitchy smile as he stuttered, "Murders, bodies... oh, yes! Ah-ha, I was waiting for you guys to show up. Everyone thought I was crazy when the first couple of deaths happened. Ohoho, but I knew... I told 'em..." He covered the body on the table with a white sheet and waved them over as he walked quickly to one of the freezer compartments in the wall. He pulled the tray out, revealing the body of a young woman. "Sad. Poor girl. Well, here you go."

Dean scrunched his nose and pointed at a line of puncture marks on her inner thigh. "Maybe Andy was onto something."

Sam looked at Miles, "Can I see the autopsy report?"

Miles retrieved the files from his cabinet and handed the folder to Sam, then opened another compartment. "The latest body was a real doozy," he said, sliding the tray out to reveal a middle aged man with a gaping hole in the side of his neck. "You know what I think it is?"

Dean leaned over and whispered to Sam, "Ten bucks he says chupacabra."

Miles leaned over the body and looked around suspiciously. "Aliens." He nodded, walking around the body to push the first back into the freezer. "I was abducted before. Nobody believes me, but I know. They're harvesting our blood in order to get our DNA."

Dean choked on a laugh but stopped when Sam elbowed him in the ribs. He cleared his throat, "And all the other bodies were being drained of their blood?"

"That's right!" Miles started to push the second tray back into the freezer compartment, but Dean stopped him.

"Wait, just a sec." Dean wanted a closer look. It was hard to see what the bite mark looked like on this body, compared to the last. Whatever it was didn't just drink his blood, it took a chunk out of him.

"You don't think it was the same thing that did it?" Miles asked.

"Well, you're the expert," Sam said, looking at him.

"Right, well, the bite marks are pretty similar, like they came from the same alien species, but maybe not from the same alien," Miles answered excitedly. "I've been trying to get through to you guys for years! You tell your bosses. Bring the army because I've got a bad feeling. Ever see War of the Worlds?"

"That movie with Tom Cruise?" Dean raised his eyebrows.

"What? No. Gene Barry." Miles pointed, "You wait and see."

Sam smiled, "O...kay. Well, I think we're done here. I'll be sure to let them know of your concerns back at the office. I'm just going to take these files to show them."

"You do that!"

Once Dean was clear of the office with Sam, he looked at him, "He seemed just a bit..." He whistled, swirling his finger at the side of his head. "Cuckoo."

"He would sound just as crazy to normal people if he said vampires are real."

"But vampires _are_ real. What does little green men with anal probes have to do with bleeding people dry?"

Sam looked at him, amused, "Who says they're little green men?"

"Everybody."

Sam scoffed, "Those are some old movies you've been watching."

"Until an alien shows up and objects to our portrayal of his species, they're little green men." He opened his phone as he turned the key in the ignition and dialed Andy. "Hey, we're on our way. We'll meet you in the food court."

After making her final stop at the lingerie store, Andy made her way across the mall to the food court carrying four large bags with a few smaller bags tucked inside.

Dean was already eating a burger and fries while Sam looked over the autopsy reports. He stared at Andy's bags as she plopped down in a seat next to them. With his mouth full, he garbled, "I hope you know the impala doesn't have a closet."

She chuckled, "Don't worry, it looks like a lot, but it's not really. I got two jackets, a couple plaid shirts for layering, some tank tops, skinny jeans, a pair of boots, and a suit. I also got a pair of heels to wear with the suit and realized how short I am because the girl at the cash register is still taller than me even with three inches added to my height. I thought 5'4" is average but evidently I've been hanging out with short people most my life."

Dean popped the lid off his soda and held the cup to his lips to drink. "How do you feel about small, tight spaces?"

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not claustrophobic, but I am afraid of spiders, so if you want me squeezing under a house or something, I might start screaming if things start crawling on me."

"So, then I shouldn't tell you that we have a job at a spider sanctuary coming up, huh?"

"Nope." She looked around at the different fast food restaurants, then looked at Sam, who was focused on studying. "Hey, what did you eat?"

"He hasn't eaten yet," Dean answered for him.

Sam opened the map from Jasper's case file and compared the locations he circled with the news articles and autopsy reports, numbering each circle in order of who was killed. "It's looking more and more like there's a nest nearby."

"So, I was right," Andy said before walking over to Subway.

Sam circled two more locations and rotated the map around for Dean to see. "Look. It's over about ten miles, but there's a pattern. It kind of forms a rectangle. I think their hunting grounds are somewhere in between here," he pointed at one of the circled locations on the west end of the map, then at another on the opposite end of the map, "and here."

"Vamps like to frequent bars," Dean said, scanning the map.

Andy set a sandwich down in front of Sam and unwrapped hers to eat. "Why?"

"Drunks are easier to get a hold of," Dean answered.

"Thanks." Sam took a bite of his sandwich and set it down to put his laptop on the table. He'd have to look up the local bars online because the map didn't include businesses. "Hey... if these are vampires, what if we run into Gordon again?"

Dean groaned, crumpling up the wrapper for the burger, "I really don't want to have to deal with that psycho again. But maybe he's busy stalking some other vampires."

"Or maybe he's stalking _us_."

"Dude, that's not funny," Dean fixed Sam with a look.

"Who's Gordon?" Andy asked.

"A sociopath vampire hunter who really doesn't like us," Sam answered before taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Why not?"

Dean shrugged, "We might have saved some vampires from him, then tied him up and punched him in the face."

"Considering none of the recent murders were decapitations, I think it's safe to say he isn't here yet," Sam said.

"Let's hope so."

Andy had never been in a real confrontation with another human being, so she wasn't sure how different it would be in comparison to dealing with the kishi, but she knew if Dean or Sam were in danger, she would do whatever it took to protect them. Like a mama bear with her cubs. "So, let's be careful how we proceed. Scope the place out for any signs of him before we look for vampires?"

"Maybe we should double check on the beheadings with the coroner. That's a damn sure sign there's another hunter here. And considering all the other victims were bitten and drained of blood, he might not have mentioned it because it would be unrelated."

"Doesn't sound like something aliens would do?" Sam smirked and shook his head, "I think he would have mentioned it. Bodies are still dropping, so let's just start looking."

Dean stood up and threw his garbage in the trash. "Works for me. Let's get changed and go out for a drink. I sure could use one."

"I'm grabbing a smoothie before we go," Andy said, picking up her bags.

After returning to the motel room, Sam found a bar central to the circled locations on the map. After they changed into their casual clothes, they piled into the impala, and Dean started driving.

"We're going to have to get you your own handgun," Sam said, handing her Dean's Kershaw Storm II folding knife. "And you might need this."

"Thanks." She opened and closed it, then put it in the pocket of her utility jacket. "Oh, hey, this song is perfect! Crank it up!"

Dean chuckled and turned the volume up to AC/DC's _If you want blood (you got it)_, then drummed his hands on the steering wheel.

Sam looked at Dean, "Do you think she should go in ahead of us? Just to check for Gordon or anyone suspicious?"

Dean didn't like the idea of sending her in alone, but he didn't like the idea of running into Gordon again either, especially not after he'd left him tied up for three days. "Well, he doesn't know Andy's with us or that she's even a hunter..." He looked at her through the rearview mirror, "What do you say, Andy? We'll be right behind you."

"Works for me. What's he look like?"

Dean puckered his lips as he thought about it, "He's black."

Sam waited for more, then turned his head to look at Dean, incredulous. "That's not a description, Dean."

"Yes, it is!" He scoffed, "Think about it, Sam. We're in white people central! The only black person crazy enough to hang around a bar full of hicks is Gordon."

Andy thought about it. "He's got a point. I didn't see anyone who wasn't white at the mall, now that I think about it. We probably need to find more populated cities like Memphis or Nashville for diversity."

Sam didn't have anything to say to that. "Okay, fine. Well, he drives a red El Camino, so let's keep an eye out for that too."

"Drop me off here, and I'll walk the rest of the way," Andy said. It would be silly for them to see them all drive up in the same car, even if they walked in separately. She got out and walked ahead in the dark. When she entered the pub, there were only four people seated inside in the corner, so she took a seat at the bar and texted Dean: _No Gordon._

"Beer's two bucks tonight for the ladies," the bartender smiled at her.

"Oh, lucky me. I'm waiting for a girlfriend to meet me, but I guess I'll have a beer."

"A bottle or from tap?"

"Whatever you have on tap is fine."

He turned around and poured her a pint, then placed it on the counter in front of her. He looked past her at the group of unsavory individuals in the corner and smiled, "Can I get you another round, Joe?"

Andy took a drink of her beer and tried not to make a sour face at the taste. She looked over her shoulder, and the surly man in plaid raised his hand for another round. A young woman in leather pants and a frayed top slid out of her chair and walked down the hall to the restroom.

"So, when is your friend supposed to meet you here?" the bartender asked and rested his hands on the edge of the counter.

"Oh, I got here early. She's not off work for another half hour. But since I came from out of town, I have nothing better to do than wait." She lifted the glass to her lips again, drinking as a way to avoid continuing the awkward conversation with the bartender. She looked over her shoulder again when the door opened and Dean and Sam walked in. They sat at the other end of the bar.

The bartender gave them a look of acknowledgement but didn't take their orders yet. "Is she a local? Maybe I know her."

"Yeah, but I don't think she gets out much."

"What's her name?"

"Anne."

"Anne what?"

Andy hesitated, "Anne... Shirley."

"Yep, I don't know her," he shook his head and watched her.

She took another sip of her half empty beer and cast Dean a sideways glance, hoping for a rescue.

"Hey, Malone!" Dean waved his hand for his attention.

The bartender looked over at Dean. "Name's not Malone, pal. What can I do for you?"

"A couple of beers for me and my friend here."

The bartender popped the caps off a couple bottles and set them on the counter in front of them. "Here you go. A beer for you and your 'friend.'"

Dean exchanged looks with Sam, as if to say 'What the hell?'

Andy was still nursing her beer, but she was feeling strange and wondered if she was really that much of a light weight. She'd only had a little more than half her pint, and she was feeling impaired.

The bartender smiled at her, "You should find a better friend."

"What?"

"Leaving you here waiting for her like this."

Andy looked across the bar at Dean and returned his flirtatious wink with a smile. She looked into her beer and blinked hard, spinning the cup in her hand so the condensation pooled around the bottom and soaked the napkin it sat on. She was dizzy.

"Hey, you okay?" the bartender asked, concerned. "You look like you're gonna be sick. The restrooms are through that door and down the hall on your left."

Andy wobbled as she stood up and followed his directions.

The surly man in the corner stood up and dropped a quarter into the jukebox, selecting Foghat's _Slow Ride _from the selection.

Andy stumbled into one of the stalls and knelt in front of it. She cringed at the thought of trying to make herself throw up, but she was almost sure she'd been drugged. "Damn it."

The biker in the leather pants Andy had seen earlier kicked the door into her stall and grabbed her from behind in a bear hug before she could turn around. Weak and dizzy, Andy struggled against her and planted her foot against the rim of the toilet to push back, sending the biker stumbling backwards against the sink. Andy threw her head back, hitting the biker in the face with the top of her head. "DE-"

The woman clamped a hand over Andy's mouth so she couldn't call out for help and licked the blood that dripped from her nose to her lip. "Feisty bitch," she hissed.

Andy threw her elbow back into her attacker's ribs repeatedly to try to loosen her hold.

"You've got some fight left in you," the woman growled and tightened her hold on Andy, constricting her so she couldn't breathe.

Dean leaned over to whisper to Sam, "Andy must be a lightweight. She looked ready to blow chunks."

"We can't all be attuned to drinking like you, Dean."

Dean glanced around the room, eyeing the group in the corner. "Hey, you think...?"

"What? That the suspicious looking group sitting in the corner of the bar might be up to something?"

"No, I was going to ask if you thought his jacket matched his boots."

Sam rolled his eyes, "So, check up on Andy, and we'll wait in the car for them to leave, then follow them."

It had only been a couple of minutes, but Dean was worried about her. When he stood up, the three bikers in the back rose up out of their seats at the same time. "Damn it."

The bartender blocked his path when he tried to walk down the hallway. "Hey, you can't go back there."

Dean grabbed him by the shirt and threw him back into the bar before barging into the women's restroom. "Andy!"

Sam stood up when the bartender crashed into the counter, and he looked back at the bikers as they left one by one. "Hey, Dean?"

The surly man in the plaid shirt stopped and turned to face Sam, then barreled towards him. Sam moved away from the bar, so his back was against the wall and prepared himself. When the biker threw a punch, Sam ducked it and countered with a jab to his ribs. That didn't seem to have much effect though as the biker picked Sam up and smashed him down against the table.

"She's not here!" Dean ran back into the barroom. "HEY!"

The biker chuckled and released Sam before running out the door and joining the others in the van.

"Come on!" Sam stood up from the table and ran out to the impala with Dean.

Andy felt detached from her body and unable to move, but she opened her eyes. The voices around her sounded like she was underwater.

"She's a pretty little thing. Bet she tastes good." She couldn't tell who was speaking, but the voice was deep and had a thick southern accent.

"She's mine." She recognized the woman's voice from the bathroom.

"Ava, you're not thinking of turning her, are you?" Another voice.

"We'll see."

Andy closed her eyes again, unable to stay lucid.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed, slamming his hand against the steering wheel as he peeled out of the parking lot to follow the van. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Do we have dead man's blood? Those blood suckers are going to pay!"

"Yeah, in the trunk." Sam noticed headlights behind them and glanced in the side mirror. "Hey..." He looked back over his shoulder. "Is that an El Camino behind us?"

"You have got to be kidding me!" Dean groaned, squinting at the headlights flooding his rearview mirror. "Well, isn't that great. He followed us."

"Hopefully we can keep his attention on the vampires and use him as a distraction long enough to get Andy to safety."

Dean clenched his jaw, contemplating his decision that put Andy in danger. "Let's not tell Ellen about this... we wouldn't hear the end of it."

Sam reminded him gently, "That could have been you or me."

Dean saw the van turn down a side road toward a farm house and followed them, then pulled off to the side of the road and quickly exited the car, gun drawn.

Gordon slowed down behind them and stepped out of his car, hands raised. "Funny running into you two here. Don't tell me these fangs are your buddies too."

"Far from it, you psycho. Those vampires abducted an innocent girl."

His tone was unsettlingly calm, "A truce?"

Sam stepped out of the car and rested his forearms on the roof. "We don't want any trouble. These vampires are killing people. We just want to save the girl."

Gordon mulled it over, nodding slowly as he looked back and forth between them. Then, he smiled, "I still have unfinished business with you two, but it seems we're on the same page this time. So, what do you propose we do? What's your strategy?" He smirked, "Wave a white flag and ask them nicely?"

Dean's face remained hard, "No. How about you go in first and cause a distraction to draw most of the vamps away."

Gordon studied him suspiciously, "You're not trying to serve me up to be food for these fangs, are you?"

Sam shook his head, "Of course not. We can slip in while you're causing the distraction and get the girl."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "We'll go in and get her, then we'll stay out of your way while you go on your killing spree."

Gordon gave them one last look before agreeing, "Fine." He slipped back into his vehicle and sped off ahead of them.

Sam sat back inside the car with Dean. "We can't trust him."

"Of course not. He's going try something the moment Andrea is safe. That is if he doesn't know she's with us yet."

"I doubt he'll even wait til Andy is safe. He'll probably assume they turned her. Or he'll see her as collateral damage."

"Then let's hope there's enough of them to keep him busy while we get her back."

Andy felt hands underneath her arms half carrying, half dragging her through a house. She tripped trying to work her legs, but the hands kept her up. She had no idea where she was or who was holding her up, but she opened her eyes as they led her through a kitchen and down a set of wooden steps into a large, dimly lit basement. There was another set of stairs directly across from the staircase they'd descended, presumably leading outside.

"Took you long enough." A dark-haired man in jeans and a tank top stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed.

Ava, the woman that had attacked her in the bathroom, spoke, and Andy realized she was one of the hands holding her up. "The bitch still had plenty of fight in her even though she was roofied. I want to make her mine."

The other hand that held her gave her arm a firm squeeze as he twisted and pushed her to the ground. She grunted when she landed against cold metal, and the clatter of a wire cage door shut in front of her.

A sweet, soft drawl entered the room from the stairwell leading to the kitchen. "Now, now. Language, young lady." The voice belonged to a porcelain skinned woman in a sun dress with her golden blonde hair tied up in a bun. She stopped in front of Andy's cage.

Andy cleared her throat to find her voice and slurred, "Don't turn me..."

The southern belle knelt in front of Andy's cage. "What's the matter, sugar? Don't you fear death? You might could have so much more life if you join us."

Andy felt sick and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing as she repeated, "Don't turn me."

"Bless your heart... You don't have much choice in the matter. Whether we eat you or turn you. We'll talk later when you've sobered up. Okay, darlin'?"

"Lady Marilyn," the surly vampire started.

"Speak up."

"We were followed by hunters."

She breathed a soft sigh through her nose. "You're just tellin' me this now?"

"It was just one car, two kids. They threw a molotov onto one of our trucks. Ricky and Bobby are following them."

"I want you to go too," she said, raising her chin. "Take Lewis with you. Bring me their heads."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And if you don't... I'll have yours."

"Okay, let's go!" Dean waited until the other two hunters piled into their pickup truck and sped off after Gordon before coming out from where they knelt behind a tree a few hundred feet away.

"I'll take the porch on the left," Sam said as he ran toward the side of the house, armed with a crossbow and dead man's blood tipped bolts.

"Fine, I'm going in through the front!" Dean yelled back in a whisper, holding his machete, ready to take off a vampire's head.

Gordon led the four hunters away and tossed another molotov onto some dead crops, then he drove into the field, circling the farmhouse so he could deal with the vampires inside as soon as he finished off those that tailed him. He stepped out of his car with his gun and his hunting knife covered in dead man's blood.

"You don't want to be like her, do you?" Ava leaned against Andy's cage and slammed her hand down on the wires to rattle her. Andy's gaze fell on a girl in another cage across the room. She couldn't tell if the girl was still breathing. "She's dying, you know. Slowly. The drugs wear off, and we drink, listening to her scream and cry and plead for us to let her live. We're giving you an opportunity she begged us for." Ava looked to her leader. "I want to turn her, Marilyn. Please, can I?"

Marilyn gave Andy one last glance and waved her hand, "Oh, very well. Consider this your Christmas present. Do it before she comes to."

Ava opened the cage and pulled Andy out by her feet, amused at how she clumsily tried to kick her. "You'll thank me later."

"I'll kill you-"

Ava slapped her and growled, "Don't be ungrateful." She lifted Andy up so she sat propped up against the cage, then she cut her own arm below the wrist and placed it above Andy's mouth. "Drink and you'll live." Andy kept her mouth shut, but Ava gripped her face with her other hand, digging her fingers between her jaws to open her mouth. "Drink!"

"Ahh-ah!" Andy recognized the coppery taste of blood in her mouth and knew she had to resist.

"Swallow it."

Before she could black out again, Andy spit it out.

Ava curled her lip. "Then, I'll cut you open."

Dean put his ear to the front door and heard two muffled voices on the other side. Noting the door opened inward, he put his hand on the doorknob and turned it as he pushed it open hard with his shoulder, slamming into the two vampires and catching them off guard. He kicked the nearest one in the chest, causing him to stumble back, and swung his machete into the neck of the second behind the door.

The brief moment Dean took to pull the machete from the vampire's neck gave the first the chance he needed. The man stood nearly as tall as Sam, and he bore his fangs as he grabbed Dean by the jacket in both hands and threw him into the wall.

"Ugh!" Dean landed on his side, cringing, and didn't recover quickly enough.

The vampire picked Dean up by his jacket again and head butt him. "I'll kill you!"

Dazed, Dean shook it off and lifted his legs, placing his feet on the vampire's hips, and pushed as hard as he could to kick him back. Then, he took an upward swing with the machete when the man lunged forward again, slicing through his chest. When the vampire covered the wound and looked at the red on his hand, Dean smirked, "That's right, pal. Dead man's blood."

"I have plenty of time to kill you before it kicks in," he said, swinging wide and looping punches at Dean.

Dean blocked the blows with his forearms, then punched the vampire in the throat and kneed him in the gut.

The vampire was driven back by Dean's attack but quickly regained his composure and dodged Dean's next punch, countering with an uppercut to Dean's solar plexus.

Dean wheezed, having had the wind knocked out of him, and reeled back. As he struggled to catch his breath, he saw the vampire lunge forward, and he side stepped him, circled around behind him, and swung his machete, cutting clean through the vampire's neck from behind. He took a deep breath and wiped the blood from his lip.

Sam came up on the porch on the side of the house with his crossbow raised and ready. When he saw a vampire standing on the other side of a screen door, he loosed a bolt, hitting her in the shoulder.

She hissed in pain and ripped the bolt out, then crashed through the screen door, bearing her teeth. He ran toward her and used the crossbow as a weapon; swinging it horizontally, he struck her across the jaw with it, spinning her and knocking her off balance. He unsheathed the machete at his side, standing over her, and hesitated for only a second before swinging the blade at her neck when she turned on her back and swiped at him. He sheathed the machete and he walked up the porch, reloading his crossbow.

Sam passed through the sitting room and walked down a short hallway with a door at the end, carefully pushing open doors on the way to check the rooms to make sure they were empty. When he opened the door at the end of the hall, he saw Dean across the room grappling another vampire. As soon as Dean broke the man's hold on him, Sam shouted, "Dean, duck!" He fired a bolt into the heart of the vampire just as Dean's head was low enough.

Dean spun around, "Whoa, Sammy, you almost hit me!"

Sam shrugged, knowing he wouldn't have hit him, and reloaded. "I had to take the shot."

Dean swung the machete at the vampire's neck, taking off his head. "Think they heard us?"

"Considering they have the hearing of a bat, probably."

"So much for the element of surprise. But Gordon must have attracted the bulk of them."

"Lucky for us, then."

"We'll be lucky if they take him out and he takes them down with him."

"Knowing him, we'd better just hurry and get out of here with Andy."

"Well, you covered that side, I covered this side, let's go that way."

They walked through the kitchen and Sam tried the door leading into the basement. "Locked."

"Move aside." Dean kicked the door open and felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw Ava standing over Andy with blood on her mouth. "ANDY!"

Sam pushed past Dean, quickly taking aim and shooting Ava with the crossbow before she could do anything else. As she tugged at the bolt in her chest, the dead man's blood weakened her, and she gurgled in pain.

Marilyn knew when they were coming through the house that if she tried to escape, she would likely be killed. She spun around and grabbed a hold of Andy when Sam loaded another bolt on the crossbow. "Ah, ah, ah. It seems you two uncouth gentlemen have some cunning about you. I must say, I am impressed. Why don't you let me go on my way? I'm just one little vampire, and I'd really hate to sully my new dress with her blood."

Dean walked down the steps slowly, still tightly gripping his machete. "Fine. Let her go."

The double doors at the top of the staircase opposite Sam opened, and Gordon descended the steps slowly, covered in blood. He raised his crossbow, aiming at Marilyn, but his eyes shifted to the Winchesters. Marilyn turned with her back to the cage, caught between Sam and Gordon, and extended her fangs.

"Whoa, whoa, stop!" Sam shouted.

"C'mon, Gordy, she has a hostage," Dean said. "Lower the crossbow."

Gordon kept his finger poised on the trigger and looked at the blood around Andy's mouth. "They've already turned her. It's too late."

Dean took his colt .45 out of his jacket and aimed it at Gordon's head. "You take that shot, and I'm gonna put one in your head."

"You said you weren't going to get in my way. And yet here you are, trying to stop me from killing another vampire."

"I told you, we just want the girl."

Gordon turned his head to look him square in the eye. "She's not a girl anymore, Dean." He smiled ruefully, shaking his head, "She's been fed. She's one of them."

Marilyn retracted her fangs to speak. "I do declare, she's not. It would seem we've reached a bit of an impasse. So, how about you let me go and I'll leave the girl unharmed?"

"It's a deal," Sam answered.

Gordon gave him an incredulous look, "No, it's not."

Dean sighed, "You're trying to bargain with a head case, lady."

Marilyn stared at Gordon for a moment and knew he'd kill Andy to get to her. "You're fixin' to kill an innocent in order to take a shot at me?"

Gordon's focus was on aiming at where her heart would be behind Andy as he answered coldly, "Yes. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of one."

Dean's lips twitched with rage and he shouted, reminding Gordon of his presence, "Pull that trigger, Gordy, and you're dead!"

Sam lowered his crossbow and stepped down the staircase for Marilyn to move past him. "Let her go."

Marilyn backed up toward the stairs cautiously, "You two are quite a curious duo. Our dark complexioned friend, on the other hand, has made his intentions clear."

Gordon clenched his jaw, tempted to fire, but knew Dean had him in his sights. He took his finger off the trigger and backed up the steps. "Okay. Go ahead."

Once Marilyn was up the stairs, she released Andy and shut the door behind her, locking it. At the same time, Gordon closed the double doors leading outside and shut the latch.

Sam caught Andy before she fell down the steps and inspected her arm. "She wasn't lying. She hasn't been turned. Look." He raised her forearm, where there was a long scratch from where Ava had intended to introduce her blood directly into her bloodstream.

Dean rushed to her side and noticed her eyes were open, but she seemed dazed and confused. "Andy?"

"Did you hear that?" Sam looked toward the door Gordon left through, where he thought he'd heard glass shatter. The orange flicker of flames spread around the door. "He's setting the house on fire!"

Dean stepped over Andy to climb the stairs and kicked the door to the kitchen, nearly losing his balance on the stairs when the door jamb didn't break. He steadied himself against the wall and kicked it again with success.

"Take this," Sam said, handing Dean the crossbow, then scooped Andy up in his arms.

Dean moved into the kitchen to make sure there weren't any other vampires coming for them before waving at Sam to follow. "It's clear!" He stopped at the door leading into the dining room and hovered his hand over the handle. Feeling no heat, he turned the knob, raising his crossbow as he pushed the door open with his shoulder. The room was hot and heavy with smoke, but he led them to the foyer and saw that the front door was burning and falling apart. "Damn it!"

"This way!" Sam shouted, leading Dean past a burning stairwell and through the hallway he'd come in through. The fire was spreading but the door was clear.

Dean passed him to go outside first to make sure Gordon or Marilyn weren't waiting outside for them. There was no visible sign of either of them, but he could hear the sound of gunshots and speeding cars in the distance. "They're gone."

Sam followed him outside into the fresh air and took a deep breath. "We need to get her to a hospital."

They returned to the impala where it was parked behind a tree in a ditch down the road, and Sam sat in the backseat with Andy so she was lying across the backseat with her head elevated. "That bartender must have slipped her something."

"I'll kill him," Dean breathed, staring straight ahead at the road as he floored the accelerator. They had a long stretch of highway to go down to get back into the city.

"Don't go that far."

"He's helping vampires kill humans. I'd say that makes him fair game." Drugging Andy was enough to warrant a serious beat down though.

"We'll file a police report."

"Fine. But I'm dropping you two off at the hospital, and I'm going to pay him a visit." He glanced back at him in the rearview mirror reassuringly, "You know, just to make sure he doesn't leave town."

"Okay."

Sam carried Andy into the hospital and asked the staff to contact the police so he could file a report against the bartender. While he spoke under one of his aliases with an officer, Andy was admitted and hooked up to an IV drip.

When Sam went up to her room to see her, she was awake. He sat down in the chair beside her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," she sighed, closing her eyes. "They made me pee in a cup."

"How much do you remember about what happened?"

"I remember being attacked in the bathroom." She turned her head to look at him, bunching the pillow under her head, careful not to snag the IV on the side rail of the bed. "I'm sorry."

Sam furrowed his brow. "What for?"

"Getting in the way. I told myself at the beginning, I have one job, not to be a liability." She bit her lip to prevent it from quivering and giving away her emotions, "I blew it."

He took her hand. "Hey. It's okay."

Her face contorted with the threat of tears and her voice wavered, "I failed the trial period, didn't I?"

Sam couldn't help smiling, "No, you didn't." There never really was a trial period anyway. He looked down at her hand and shook his head, "You should see how many times Dean's had to rescue me and vice versa."

"Really?" She looked at him, wondering if he was just saying that to make her feel better.

"Really. Like this one time, Dean was tied to a tree to be a sacrifice to a Norse god."

"Well, at least you guys were done in by supernatural things. I got duped by a plain ol' bartender."

"People can be monsters too." He released her hand and rested his forearms on his knees. "Are you sure you still want to tag along with us?"

"Yes," she rested her head back with her eyes closed. "If I weren't drugged, I would have kicked that vampire's ass. Well, I probably wouldn't have cut her head off in the bathroom..."

"Good. You can leave that part to us."

"Thanks, Sam." She opened her eyes and glanced around the room, "Hey, where is Dean?"

"I'm pretty sure he went back to beat that bartender within an inch of his life. I already filed a police report about him drugging you, so Dean wanted to get his licks in before the police show up to arrest the guy."

"Good. He needs to have his license revoked."

Sam chuckled, "Considering how many people he served up to those vampires, I'd say a revoked license is the least of his worries."

"Good point." She groaned, "I think I'm going to throw up."

"Should I get you a barf bucket or the nurse?" he asked, looking around the room for something to use. All he saw was a pitcher of water on the counter.

"No, I'll just sleep it off."

"Okay, get some rest... I'll be here."

"Wake me up when Dean gets here..."

When Dean arrived an hour later, he stood in the doorway and Sam stepped out to speak with him. He tucked his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet then glanced at the doorway to her hospital room. He chewed his lip and frowned, "Sammy, you were right. I shouldn't have brought her along." It hurt him to admit it and more to accept it.

"No, Dean, I wasn't," Sam shook his head.

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated with himself. "I talked her into it. Hell, I practically volunteered her."

"She wants to be here. And that could have happened to any of us."

"No. It wouldn't." He looked Sam in the eye, "Because I know what beer tastes like. I'd know if someone tampered with my drink."

Sam looked incredulous, "You can't fault her for that. I probably wouldn't have known if it happened to me."

"I'm not. But I shouldn't have put her in that situation. We should've gone in with her. I should have been looking after her."

"And next time we will."

Dean hesitated, "I don't know that there'll be a next time. She still has a chance to back out of this."

Sam watched him walk into the room and sighed, following him inside. Dean took the chair beside Andy's bed, and Sam sat across the room, but neither of them wanted to disturb her much needed rest.

When Andy awoke early the next morning, she felt hung over but less like she was going to fall off the world. She saw Sam and Dean were both uncomfortably asleep in the hospital chairs, surprised the hospital staff didn't kick them out. She cleared her throat and spoke just above a whisper, "Dean."

He opened his eyes and sat upright, ignoring the cramp in his neck. "Hey..."

When Sam heard them, he woke up too and blinked away the sleep in his eyes. He knew they needed some space and stood up. "I'm gonna... go get some coffee."

Andy smiled at Sam and looked at Dean. "Think we can stay at the motel another day before we leave? I really don't feel like being in a car just yet."

"We're not going anywhere until you're better."

"Did the cops arrest that bartender?"

Dean nodded, "They went to question him and found him handcuffed to a table with a pocket full of roofies."

She simpered, "I do hope he needed medical attention."

Dean gave a smug little shrug, "He probably won't be answering any questions any time soon."

She rolled her eyes, "I feel pretty lame being the damsel in distress on this one."

"Hey, Sammy's a damsel in distress all the time," he joked, but looking at her, he couldn't help thinking she looked small.

She watched him in silence for a moment and frowned, "Uh oh. There's that look again."

"What look?"

"The broody look. What's on your mind?"

Dean wasn't sure anymore he could handle watching over both her and Sam. He was so overwhelmed by the task his father had given him, he tried to pretend nothing could go wrong. But every time he thought about it, he knew he had to come clean with Sam. And pulling Andy into whatever was coming their way was just as wrong. He hesitated, "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

"Yes." She tried to sound reassuring, "I'll be better tomorrow. Doc said the drugs should be out of my system in 48 hours."

He had a hard time looking her in the eye. "I think we should rethink this."

She was crestfallen, "What, me being here? Why?"

"You got hurt because I didn't protect you." He felt she was as much his responsibility to look after as Sam was.

"Are you kidding? You saved me."

"No, I put you into a dangerous situation-"

She cut him off, "The bartender took me out of the game, Dean. Who sees that coming? That's like being sucker punched by a nun."

He paused and raised an eyebrow, trying to register what she just said. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile, "Not sure I get the logic there..."

"Neither do I, I was drugged, leave me alone. Something about trust and having a license."

"Do nuns have licenses?"

"I don't know, I didn't go to nun school. Wait, nun school, would that be church? I've been to church."

He raised his eyebrows, "You mean a convent."

"Yeah, never been to one of those."

He smiled ruefully, "Thank the lord for that." She could still put a smile on his face even when he felt as guilty and crappy as he did now, and that made him feel worse for pushing her away. He sighed, "Look, I was being selfish bringing you along."

She felt her heart sink into her stomach. "Dean, don't do this. I knew this would happen if I screwed up, but I didn't think it would be you."

He interjected firmly, "You didn't screw up, Andy. I did."

"Don't take me back to San Diego. Don't leave me."

His smile didn't meet his eyes, "I just know that what I'm doing, making you a hunter, is wrong. I'm putting you in danger. Nobody chooses to do this-"

"Everyone who does this chooses it. And I have a say in the matter too. As insane a career choice this is, right now this is where I want to be. This - being with you and Sam - makes me happy. Don't send me packing." He opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him, "Do you love me?"

"That's why I want to protect you-"

"Then, stop trying to act so noble, and tell me you want me to stay! Would you be happier if I were gone? I know I wouldn't be."

Dean was taught that his happiness came after the well being of others. It was a small price to pay to save lives. That was drilled into his head for as long as he was told to watch over Sammy and for as long as he knew his mother needed to be avenged. That meant he couldn't settle down and be normal. But could he pull her into it? Wasn't that just as wrong? He sighed, "No, I wouldn't. Damn it, why do you have to be so difficult?"

She raised her chin up, "I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me. I'll be careful, I'll learn, and you won't have to worry about keeping me safe."

He knew that wasn't true. If he still worried about keeping Sammy safe, he wasn't going to stop worrying about her, either. But he couldn't let her go. What he did, hunting down monsters, it was a unique brand of crazy, and she was willing to be crazy with him. And if he had any hope at a chance of being normal, she was it. He knew she was a keeper. "Well, you've got the stubbornness to be a Winchester."

"Damn right I do," she winked.

"One condition."

"What?"

"Don't run off." Dean stood up and leaned over her bed to give her a kiss on the lips. "Stay by my side while you're still learning the ropes."

"Deal." She smiled and pulled him down for another.

Sam waited until their conversation was over before coming back into the room with his cup of coffee. "I asked the nurse when Andy can go home; she said she'll be released today and to just take it easy and drink plenty of water."

Andy sniffed, "Coffee!"

Sam glanced down at the cup in his hand and back at her, "Oh, no. You have to drink water."

"But..."

"Doctor's orders."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You scoundrel."

Sam smirked and sipped his coffee, making sure to slurp.

"I could use a coffee too," Dean said, standing up. As he walked into the hallway, he pulled Sam back outside the doorway by the back of his jacket. When they were down the hall from the room, he said, "She's staying."

"I know. I already talked to her."

"Well, I did too. I was gonna take her back home." Dean opened his wallet and tucked it back in his pocket, then turned to Sam, "Give me a dollar."

Sam rolled his eyes and dug a dollar out of his wallet and handed it to him. "Well, I'm glad you had the sense not to screw it up," he said, giving him a slap on the back.

Dean looked up at him, offended, "You sound like you expected me to screw it up." He inserted the dollar into the machine and it poured his coffee into a paper cup.

Sam started walking back toward the room and shrugged, "I just haven't seen you in a committed relationship before."

Dean chose to ignore him because he didn't have a retort. "We should come up with a training program of some kind."

He stopped and turned, "Like what?"

Dean picked up his cup of coffee from the machine and walked with Sam. "I don't know, but Dad was teaching us about this stuff for a long time before we really got our hands dirty."

"I know he did. But she's not walking into this empty handed either. At least she's already taken out two spirits. And she's crazy enough to go looking for more." Sam stopped outside her room and looked at him, "We should teach her the devil's trap though."

Dean pointed at him, "Yes!" He walked into the room and grinned, "Andy, when you're feeling better, we're going to have some fun training."

"What kind of training?"

"First, I want to teach you how to kill a vampire."

"Wait, but... there's no way to practice that."

"Sure there is."

"By... cutting off somebody's head?"

"...Kind of."

It was a few days before Andy felt well enough to attempt any strenuous activity or eating anything solid, but she was going stir crazy and wanted to get back into the swing of things. They were still in Carroll county when Dean started their first lesson. He drove Sam and Andy out into a field outside a farm.

"Ugh, it's humid," Andy frowned, wiping perspiration off her forehead. She hated feeling clammy when she hadn't even done anything yet. "What are we doing out here?"

"Vampire killing."

"They're still out here?"

Sam shook his head, "Nope."

Dean opened the trunk of the car. "It's time to practice." He pulled out a scarecrow and set it up in front of her, then impaled a watermelon on top of it.

Andy looked it up and down. "Creative. And creepy."

"Creative? That's it? How about awesome?"

Andy laughed, "Okay, so do I get a sword? A katana maybe?"

Sam chuckled, "We're a little more crude."

Dean teased, "A katana? I suppose you'll be wearing a skin tight leather outfit next."

"And make squeegy noises every time I move?" She shook her head, "No way."

Sam mused, "I don't think that's the word you're looking for."

"Well, how would you describe it?"

"I dunno, creaking?"

"That sounds like a floor board."

Dean unsheathed his Muela bowie knife. "That chick from Underworld manages just fine."

"She's wearing PVC, and I'll bet she lost ten pounds in sweat from wearing it too." Andy thought about it, especially in the humidity of Tennessee, "Oh yeah, I'd be ripe. Sexy."

Dean grinned and held the knife out to her by the blade, "You're going to be using this."

Andy took it from him and said in her best Australian accent, "Now, that's a knife."

Sam chuckled, "That was a terrible accent."

"Shut up."

Dean grinned, "Be careful with that thing. It's been sharpened to the point that it can slice through someone's neck like a hot knife through butter."

"Good. So do you want me to cut through the melon or the stick holding it up?"

"Try aiming for the bottom of the melon, here."

"So, is there a proper slashing technique? I don't want to waste our only melon."

"You'll want to make sure you go straight across," he said, gesturing how to do it. "Try to come at an angle that lets you hit the spine with full force."

She imitated him in slow motion a couple of times to practice the angle before giving it a real swing. When she cut through the watermelon and it toppled to the ground, she tried not to imagine having to do that to a real person...or thing.

"Awesome, you cut right through it." Dean retrieved the crossbow from the trunk and handed it to her, taking back the knife. "Figured you should get some practice in with this too. It won't kill a vamp outright, but it will sure as hell stop them in their tracks if they're shot with a bolt coated in dead man's blood."

"This will be a first," she said, putting some distance between herself and the melon as Dean set it back up on the stake. "Is it easier than using a pistol?"

"Treat it the same way you would a normal gun. You know BRASS?"

"Jarhead speak. Breathe, relax, aim, slack, squeeze," she answered.

Sam was surprised, "Yeah."

Dean looked back at Sam, nodding proudly, as if to say, 'That's my girl.'

"No kickback though, right?" She aimed and squeezed the trigger, surprised. "Whoa. More like a kickfront. Okay, I don't know where that one went."

"Try to make that first shot count because it takes a while to reload. You don't want to miss and make them angry."

She loaded another bolt and held the crossbow steady in both hands and squeezed the trigger, shooting the watermelon in the near center. "Got it!"

Sam clapped for her. "Okay, what do you guys say we head north? Or west. Somewhere less humid?"

"Definitely. You sweat like you're a whore in church."

Sam was dumbfounded and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "It's the weather."

Dean burst out laughing and walked past him to put the weapons back in the cache. "You're the only one who looks like he's been popping water balloons under his armpits."

Andy laughed and felt guilty when Sam got that pitiful puppy look on his face. "But you don't smell bad."

"Uh... thanks." Sam smiled because he knew she was trying to make him feel better. "Let's get going."

As they piled into the impala, Dean looked at Sam. "What do you think happened with Gordy?"

He rolled down the window and rested his arm on the frame, "He probably caught up to Marilyn and killed her."

"I would have expected him to try to find us afterwards."

Sam looked at him, "Well, maybe he's still chasing her."

"Or, maybe she captured him and killed him."

"I can't tell which you'd prefer."

Dean shrugged and turned up the radio.

_We're on a ride to nowhere__  
Come on inside__  
Takin' that ride to nowhere__  
We'll take that ride_

_Maybe you wonder where you are__  
I don't care__  
Here is where time is on our side__  
Take you there... take you there_

_We're on a road to nowhere_


	5. Wearing and Tearing

Wearing and Tearing | **91**

**Disclaimer: **_This is a work of fanfiction using characters from CW's Supernatural. I am not affiliated with CW nor do I claim ownership of any part of Supernatural. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported to be canon. (Also, obvious tip of my hat to Ten Inch Hero.)_

_Song credits: Metallica - Wearing and Tearing, Glen Campbell - Rhinestone Cowboy_

_Note: Madison is an original character, obviously not the same Madison featured in Season 2 Episode 17 'Heart'. (At the time of writing, I had not seen that episode, but I wanted to keep her name regardless.) Chapter 5 takes place in Season 2 sometime after episode 10, in late January 2007. _

_Warning: Contains sexually explicit content. _

**Supernatural**

**Chapter 5**

**"Wearing and Tearing"**

When Dean revealed their father's last words to Sam, Andy was kept in the dark about it. Whenever she'd asked what was bothering him, Dean would evade her questions. When Sam snuck out in the middle of the night, she had no idea why, but Dean was frantic the next morning and finally came clean with her about it. She knew about Sam's psychic ability (and thought it was 'nifty') but she had no idea how that could put him at risk for becoming evil.

With Ellen's tip, they followed Sam to Lafayette, Indiana, but Andy stayed in the motel room while Dean went looking for him. When they returned in the middle of the night worse for wear, she resisted bombarding them with questions. Dean would fill her in later.

Dean had been raised a soldier, taught that he needed to look after Sammy and that nothing mattered more to his father than avenging Mary's death. He grew to like the family business because hunting was all he'd ever known and he was proud to be doing what was right. But now that losing Sam was a real possibility, Dean didn't want any part of it. He wanted to drop it all; he wanted Sam to be normal again, to be safe.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn't going to run away or avoid what was coming because it was inevitable. Whatever was hunting him, he knew, had been hunting him since he was a baby. It was only a matter of time before it found him. He wasn't going to stop hunting. Dean would always have his back. And so would Andrea.

Sam wanted to focus on finding Ava, the psychic that warned him about her vision of his death. Dean was worried about his obsessive searching but didn't mind having some down time from hunting if it would keep Sam out of danger. Andy, on the other hand, couldn't help looking for somebody that needed saving.

She was lying back against Dean between his legs with her head rested on his chest while he watched MXC and she browsed on her laptop. "Hey, guys. I think I found something."

Dean chuckled when a guy went face first into a wall, "The voice-overs make this crap so much funnier."

Sam looked up from his laptop and rubbed his eyes because he'd been staring at the screen for so long. "What did you find, Andy?"

"There've been three murders. The suspects all claim that it wasn't them. That's normal for any criminal to say, except all three victims were friends killed by completely random strangers." She grabbed the TV remote and hit the mute button. "What do you think?"

Dean took the remote and turned the TV off. "Could be a shifter, maybe demonic possession."

"Where?" Sam asked.

"Tilly, a small town outside Kaufman, Texas," she answered.

Dean shrugged, "If it's just a crazy bunch of gun nuts, at least we'll get ourselves some awesome barbecue."

"Way to be an optimist," she grinned, looking up at him.

"But I hope it's not a damn shifter. I'd rather deal with a demonic possession than that madness."

"I'd rather not deal with anything demonic. Demons sound scary. Something that can bleed and die on the other hand..."

Sam thought perhaps if it was a demonic possession it could give him a clue as to Ava's whereabouts. "Dean's got a grudge against shapeshifters after one of them went on a killing spree wearing his face."

"Oh."

"Well, whaddya say, Sam?" Dean asked, intertwining his fingers behind his head. "Let's go get some ribs the first chance we get. Mm-mm. Ribs, beer and magic fingers."

"It's the little things in life," Andy smiled.

"Alright," Sam closed his laptop and stood up. "Let's go."

Andy rolled out of bed and started packing.

"We're going to need to get our hands on any video footage we can," Dean said, sitting up. "Shifters' eyes glow when on camera. Remember that, you'll be quizzed on it later."

"Noted," Andy said, zipping up her bag.

They checked out of the motel, and Andy lay in the backseat of the impala, listening to the drone of the engine as they headed south on a highway out of Indiana. She had stayed awake for the first four hours of the road trip before taking a nap, but she woke up in pain, groaning involuntarily as she tried to fall back sleep. She opened her eyes and held her stomach when another wave of pain coursed through her, stronger than the last.

Dean looked back at her through the rearview mirror, "Breakfast didn't agree with you? I'll bet it was the mushrooms in that burrito."

Andy wasn't sure in her half-asleep daze. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference between a bad burrito and menstrual cramps until the pain became unbearably intense.

Sam looked over his shoulder at her as she held her belly and looked at Dean. He whispered, "I think she has cramps." He figured it would make sense; she'd been living with them for almost a month and the issue of her period hadn't come up yet.

"Like, what, she's gassy?"

Sam gave him a look, "Not those kinds of cramps."

Dean looked at him, a little horrified, "You mean, like, lady cramps?"

Sam gave him a look that said 'duh.' But he also knew Dean's longest relationship was with Cassie and that had only lasted two weeks.

Andy wanted to protest their talking about it, but all she could muster was another groan.

Sam continued, "We should probably find a motel. We've been on the road for seven hours anyway."

"Fine," Dean said, waiting for another sign on the barren road to direct them to the nearest lodging. He looked in the rearview mirror and smirked, "Hey, I know what might help. Magic Fingers. Eh?"

Sam shook his head, "That wouldn't help at all."

"Are you kidding? It'll 'carry her into the land of tingling relaxation and ease.'"

"That only works on you. Because you're weird, and you have a problem."

"The only problem I have is that you never share your quarters."

Dean pulled off at the next exit and parked at the run down motel across the street from a mini mart and gas station. Further down the road was an inviting mom and pop diner beside a clean, contemporary pharmacy. There were a few other stores and a theatre on the same road before leading into the neighborhood. If he had to guess, the town's population didn't go over five hundred. They weren't even a blip on the map.

They checked into their room, which wasn't as shabby as the exterior of the building, and Andy settled into the bed nearest the door, curling up into a fetal position as she tried to sleep through the pain unsuccessfully. The room had wood paneled walls and an iron filigree partition between the bathroom and the two twin size beds. The TV on the chest of drawers across the room still had rabbit ears and a turn dial.

"I'm going to the corner store," Dean said, dropping his duffle bag on the floor beside the door. "Anyone want anything?"

"Tampons," Andy said without lifting her head.

"I meant to eat," Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up, volunteering, "I'll go."

Dean put his hand up to stop him, "No, hey. I've got this." He put his hands in his pockets, thinking, then asked, "Are those the ones that look like tiny dynamite sticks? Or the ones that have wings?" Sam stifled a laugh, and Dean glared at him, "Shut up."

"Dynamite," Andy grinned and grimaced at the same time. "Get me the kind with the plastic applicator."

"I'm assuming I'll know what that means when I see it. Anything else? Chocolate?"

She felt her face light up in spite of the pain and looked at him, "That sounds awesome."

Sam cleared his throat, interjecting quietly, "Chocolate actually makes cramps worse. It contains a mild stimulant to the central nervous system-"

"Don't pee on my parade, Sam. Chocolate sounded so good a second ago," she frowned.

He furrowed his brow, "Sorry. I have some ibuprofen you can have."

"Ooh. Gimme. I mean, thank you and please. Ow... ow, ow, ow..."

"I'll be back," Dean said and walked outside.

Sam remembered something else and opened the door to catch him before he left. "Hey, get one of those Thermacare heating pads too."

Dean turned around, "A what?"

"It's in a red box."

He paused, looking at him quizzically, and smirked, "This is why you're Agent Scully. When did you become an expert on lady cramps?"

Sam's lips twitched in a smile and he shook his head, "Jess used to get really bad cramps. Just get it."

That made sense. Dean walked down to the pharmacy first to look for the heating pad and found the feminine hygiene aisle. He walked slowly, browsing the boxes and muttering under his breath, "Dynamite... dynamite... dynamite..." When he looked up, a young woman was standing a few feet in front of him, staring at him. He gave her a crooked smile and cleared his throat as he looked at the boxes in front of her. _Why do they need so many?_ he thought. _And how do I know which ones are plastic?_ He considered asking her for help but really wanted to play it cool. When she walked away, he saw a box that said _Tampax Pearl_ and in small letters _Plastic_. "Oh, here we go. A variety pack," he grinned, proud of himself and grabbed the box off the shelf. _You can't go wrong with a variety pack._

He walked through the pharmacy with the box of tampons tucked under his arm as he gathered the rest of their supplies with a look of accomplishment on his face. He picked up the box of heating pads, then went to the other side of the store for a bottle of whiskey, another box of condoms, and various snacks.

"Would you like a basket to help carry your things, sir?" an elderly woman asked, offering him a black plastic basket.

He looked down at it and shook his head, "No... no thanks." He didn't think there was any masculine way of carrying a basket, and he was already carrying a box of tampons. He just needed to grab the vacu-sealed bag of beef jerky off the rack on his right. He tucked a bag of chips under his chin to free up a couple of fingers and plucked it off the hanger, then walked over to the cash register and set everything down.

When he returned to the motel room with their supplies, he saw Andy still curled up in bed, cringing in pain. "Hey, I got a variety pack," he said, proudly taking it out of the bag.

She smiled, "That's perfect."

"I also got whiskey, I'm more than happy to share. Oh, and..." He dug through the bag for the heating pads and handed her the box.

"Thanks."

"Where's Sam?"

"I'm in here," his voice answered from the bathroom.

"Ew, Sam, close the door."

"I'm cleaning out the bath tub, so she can take a hot bath. The heat helps."

"What about alcohol, does that help?"

"Actually, it might help take the edge off, but it's also a blood thinner, so it'll make her bleed more-"

"Okay, gross, stop talking."

Sam came out of the bathroom drying his hands on a hand towel. "Andy, you can go in now."

"Thanks, Sam," she rolled out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom with her boxes and closed the door behind her.

"Dude," Dean looked at Sam as he set the bottle of whiskey and the bags of snacks on the table. "I'm so glad I'm not a chick."

The next morning, Andy felt better, no longer plagued with cramps. Dean drove the last six hours to Tilly, and they checked into Doose's Motel, an ugly-on-the-outside and cozy-on-the-inside bed and breakfast with a corner store and gas station on the same block. Their room was equipped with a kitchenette that included a miniature refrigerator, a microwave, and a full size oven and stove. The wallpaper was a faded floral pattern in yellows and oranges, and the furniture matched the color scheme.

After having lunch and changing into their suits, Dean drove them down to the Coroner's office.

"Should we split up?" Andy asked. "I could go to the Sheriff's department."

"It's better we stick together if there's a shifter around," Dean answered.

Sam walked ahead of them and held the door open to follow in behind them.

"Can I help you?" a young red-headed secretary looked up from her paperwork.

"Hi," Dean smiled and opened his badge, "Agent Fogerty. This is Agent Joplin and Agent Seger." Sam and Andy flashed their badges as he introduced them. "We'd like to speak with the coroner."

"Just a moment." She lifted the phone and pressed a button, "Phil?" There was silence from the other end. "Hm. Just a moment," she repeated, pressing her skirt down as she stood up from her chair and walked down the hallway to the backroom. "Phil?"

The coroner looked up from his filing cabinet. "What?"

"The FBI are here. They'd like to speak with you."

He sighed and rubbed his eyebrow, then looked around. "Fine. Send them in, but let them know I'm being sent to the scene of a crime, so I only have a couple minutes."

"Oh." She looked concerned, "I didn't receive any calls-"

"It came to my cellphone," he said, forcing a smile. "Remember, tell them I only have a couple minutes."  
"Okay." She walked back to her desk and took a seat at her desk. "You can go in."

"Thanks," Dean smiled and walked ahead of them as they went down the hall to the back door she'd come through. "Hey. Phil, was it? We have a few questions. We won't take up too much of your time."

"Great because I don't have much to give," he said, closing the filing cabinet. "Mind if I see your ID's, agents?"

"Of course." Dean flipped open his badge wallet, and Phil looked at it, then at Sam's, then at Andy's.

Phil subdued a smirk, "Well, what do you want to know?"

Sam spoke up first, "We're here about three murders that occurred in the last week. We're wondering if you noticed anything peculiar about the victims."

Dean shrugged, "There wasn't an extra set of skin laying around on the ground, was there?" He coughed when Andy elbowed him in the side.

Phil crossed his arms, "Peculiar about the victims, no. They all had their throats slit and bled out. Pretty cut and dry."

Dean grinned, "Heh, cut and dry. Good one."

Phil smirked, "In my line of work, you develop a sense of humor."

"Peculiar something else?" Andy asked.

Phil looked at her, "Excuse me?"

"You made it sound like there was something else peculiar, not with the victim."

"Oh. Well, it was in the paper, so you probably already know the assailants were in no way connected to the victims. They had no motive." He cleared his throat and shrugged, "The victims all knew each other, but the assailants didn't know each other or the victims. That's a little weird."

"We're going to need a copy of your report if you don't mind," Dean gave the coroner another smile.

Phil opened a filing cabinet and looked through it, drumming his fingers on the drawer as he pulled files, looking for the right one. "Did you want to see the bodies?"

"Yes, please," Dean answered.

"That's too bad. They've all been released already."

"Released?"

"For funerals. I did the examinations already."

Sam asked, "You didn't find any foreign substances on the bodies?"

"Like what?"

"Sulfur?" Dean suggested.

"Nope." Phil smirked and grabbed another file out of the cabinet and walked over to the copy machine with the reports.

"Did you know any of the victims?" Sam asked.

"Nope, not personally." Phil pressed some buttons and heaved a sigh before walking over to the door and sticking his head out into the hallway. "Hey!"

His secretary looked back, "Me?"

"Yes, you. The copy machine isn't working."

"Yeah, it's broken, and you said you knew a guy who'd fix it for free, remember?"

Phil smiled back, "Oh, yeah, I forgot. How do I make copies?"

His secretary stood up and took the reports from him. "I'll do it."

Phil looked back at them, "Well, she's gonna make your copies for you. I've gotta get going."

"Thanks for your assistance," Sam nodded, walking toward the door to leave.

"Oh, one more question," Dean said and smiled, "Where can we find the best ribs in town?"

Sam fixed him with a look.

"Beats me," Phil answered, "I'm a hippie vegan. Well, good luck to you guys. Keep up the good work." With that, the coroner left in a hurry.

Dean looked at Sam, "Figures he'd be an herbivore."

"What do you mean?"

"Guy deals with dead bodies for a living."

"Butchers deal with dead things too."

"Yeah, but those dead things ...moo and cluck. Not deliver the mail."

"So, no sulfur. Does that mean it's definitely a shifter and not a demon?" Andy asked.

"Not for sure but pretty likely," Sam answered, following them back to the car. "Let's see if the Sheriff has some security footage for us to look at."

When they arrived at the Sheriff's department, a modest building for a small town, they walked inside and were greeted by the deputy behind the front desk, a young man that looked like he'd barely graduated high school. "What can I do ya for?" he smiled at them.

"We need to speak with the Sheriff," Dean answered, holding his badge up. "FBI."

"Oh, uh, the Sheriff was just called out-"

The door opened behind them and Bill, the Sheriff, walked in behind them, adjusting his belt as he tugged his pants up his hips. His round belly hung over them.

"Sir?" The deputy looked surprised to see him. "Didn't you have a call?"

Bill looked at the deputy and then at Dean. "Well, you must be the FBI, and let me guess, you want the department's full cooperation."

Dean smirked, "Yes, sir."

"Let's make this quick," he said, gesturing for them to follow him back to his office.

"We're going to need to see everything your department has on file for the three murders that occurred here last week, and we have some questions." Dean reached into his jacket pocket for his notepad and pen. "We understand that the victims were connected but the attackers were all random. Is there absolutely no connection? No crazy Waco style cults here?"

Bill looked through his filing cabinet and pulled out the files they wanted. "A softball cult," he joked.

"A softball cult? I imagine they'd be easy to spot. Just look for the pack of questionable looking guys running around in short shorts."

"The victims were all part of a team," he continued and leafed through the pages, looking them over before handing them to Dean. "The assailants all claim not to remember having any part in it, like they blacked out. And none of their alibis checked out." He frowned, "Hm."

Sam asked, "Is there any video footage of the crimes taking place with full view of their faces?"

"Good question. Two of the bodies were found in the softball field. They weren't killed there though. We're not sure where the crime took place. The other..." he trailed off, leafing through another report, "was killed in a parking lot, but the cameras didn't get the attacker's face. They went by her license plate number to track her down." Bill handed Sam a copy of the interview with the attacker, "This one claims she was grocery shopping and went straight home, but the cameras in the parking lot picked up the murder. She saw the video and still claimed it wasn't her. And this one," he said, handing Andy a copy of another interview, "said he was with friends at a bar until 2 AM. The friends were all too wasted to be credible, and the bartender didn't remember seeing him, but his DNA was on the body of the second victim."

Sam looked up from the page, "Do you have the footage from the grocery store's cameras? The ones inside of the store."

"Yeah, you can get that from the deputy on your way out. Any other questions?"

Andy interjected, "What about the third victim?"

"Right..." he shuffled some papers and looked through the reports.

"Don't have the case memorized, huh?"

Sam turned his head slowly, giving her a look that said not to antagonize him.

She lipped, 'What?'

"Just give me a minute," Bill answered, annoyed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, subduing a buzzing headache.

Dean leaned back into his chair, "This is a tough one. There's no way a bunch of random people decide to kill a bunch of friends all of a sudden. Maybe it's something in the water."

Bill found the file he was looking for and handed it to Dean. "Third perp was a high school kid. He was out with friends at the park in the middle of the night. During the initial questioning, they all said they didn't see him do it, but during an interrogation at the police station, one of them changed their story, said he killed the guy right there at the park and left."

"Did he mention if his friend behaved oddly before it happened? Or did he just get up from the wall they were loitering on and said 'Gonna go kill me a random person, see you guys at soccer practice'?"

Bill smirked, "He said he just up and left." He looked down at the page, furrowing his brow. "Wait, he didn't see him commit the crime. Well, I guess that would be inadmissible, then. But the kid's DNA was found on the guy, skin under the fingernails."

"We'll have to pay him a visit later."

"This could be drug related," Andy suggested.

"Right, and who better to ask about some happy pills coming in over the border than a teenager," Dean looked back at her.

Bill scoffed, shaking his head, "That's your theory? Drugs?"

Andy raised her eyebrows, "You think it's a bad theory? What would a better theory be? Invasion of the body snatchers?"

Bill grinned, "You FBI agents."

Dean added, "Hey, it never hurts to eliminate all possibilities. Everything from psychedelic drugs to alien brainwashing and demonic possession."

"I guess they don't do psych evaluations before they hire over at the FBI, huh?"

"They do. He cheated on his," Andy answered.

"Hey," Dean looked at her like she just threw him under the bus. "We're supposed to be on the same team."

She gave a sheepish smile and confessed, "And I copied his answers."

Sam cleared his throat, "They're joking."

"Well, it's been... entertaining," Bill smiled and stood up from the desk, pulling his pants up his hips again. "Now, if you don't mind, I am really busy-"

"Just one more question," Sam requested politely.

Bill nodded.

"Did you know any of the victims or suspects?"

"Nope, not personally." He picked up the piles of reports on the desk and dumped them in the filing cabinet behind him. "You can have copies of those reports I handed you."

"Did you interview any of the other softball players?" Andy blurted out.

Dean added, "Are their names and addresses included in these reports?"

Bill set his hands on his hips, "I thought you said one more question. That's _three_."

Andy pointed at Sam, "Well, he had one more. Then, I had one, and..."

Bill rolled his eyes, "Yes, we did." He walked past them and opened the door, then called into the hallway, "Deputy!"

"Uh, yes, sir?" the young deputy jogged down the hallway.

"Get a list of names and addresses for the softball players."

"Yes, sir."

"And." He plucked the report out of Dean's hand then held his hand out for the others from Andy and Sam before giving them to the deputy. "Make copies of these for the FBI."

"Yes, sir."

Bill turned back around to face them as they stood up. "You can wait in the lobby for the copies of the reports."

Andy asked, "Are the other players in danger? Are there patrol cars posted outside their residences to make sure they don't come to any harm?"

Bill took a deep breath, "We can't spare the man power to stake out seven other houses. The three victims that were killed weren't killed at home anyway. We've advised them to stay inside." He held up his hand before she could ask anything else. "Stop. I'm walking out now." He turned around to walk out the door and the deputy stood in front of him.

"Uh, sir?"

"WHAT?" Bill snapped.

"Did you just radio me?"

"No. Did you get those copies?"

"Machine's still printing."

"Okay, go watch them print and get them to these guys as soon as the ink is dry. I've gotta go."

"Sir?" Sam prodded gently.

He turned around and looked Sam up and down, "Yes, Agent Seger?"

"Can you tell us where the suspects are all being held?"

"They're in separate holding cells for the time being. The deputy can show you to the jail. Have at 'em," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Thanks for your time."

"You're welcome," Bill answered and walked out.

"I don't think he liked me," Andy whispered.

Dean looked toward the hallway suspiciously, "How often does a law enforcement officer leave us with their prisoners and say 'have at 'em'?"

"There's a first time for everything," Sam shrugged and brushed past him to find the deputy in the lobby. "Do you guys always see this much excitement around here?"

The deputy looked up from the printer, "No, never. We get the occasional domestic dispute and some drunk and disorderly conduct, but three murders in a week? Of guys that all know each other? I wonder if it's a rival team paying people to kill 'em." When the machine stopped printing, he tidied the pages on the countertop and handed them to Sam. "Here are the reports you requested. Only two of the suspects are in custody here. The other one's at a juvenile detention center outside of town."

Andy chimed in, "What makes you think that some rival team might be paying people to kill them?"

The deputy shrugged, "I'm no detective, I'm just guessing. You guys wanted to speak with the two we have in custody now?"

"Please," Sam nodded.

The deputy led them back down the hallway into another corridor that led to the holding cells and unlocked the door to a cell holding a middle aged woman that sat on her cot with her face in her hands. She looked up when the door opened, afraid they were there to take her away.

"There's an intercom next to that door there," the deputy pointed. "You just hit the button and let me know when you're done."

"Got it," Dean nodded and walk into the cell. He looked at the haggard looking woman, who under different circumstances probably would have looked ten years younger. "Margaret, right?"

"Yes..." She stood up, then immediately sat back down, "Please believe me. I didn't do it."

"Then, help us help you," Dean said, stepping aside to make room for Sam or Andy. "What do you remember about the night of the murder?"

"I went grocery shopping, then I went home. I remember walking into the parking lot, and I remember driving home." Her leg began to fidget nervously, "I don't remember killing anyone."

Andy raised her eyebrows, "Do you remember putting your groceries in the car and getting in the car to drive home?"

Margaret stared at her blankly for a moment and nodded, "Uh, well, yeah."

Sam exchanged looks with Andy and furrowed his brow, "That doesn't sound very sure."

"Well, that's like asking if I remember brushing my teeth in the morning. It's automatic. That's what comes before driving home. I did put the groceries in the car."

Dean placed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, "How about anything odd? Maybe the smell of sulfur?"

"Sulfur? Uh, no... I don't really remember anything other than going home."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started video recording her.

"What are you doing?"

He smiled, shaking his head dismissively, and closed his phone, "This is just for official FBI stuff. Don't worry about it."

"You guys aren't what I was expecting," she admitted, wringing her hands together.

Andy took out her sunglasses and put them on. "How about now?"

The woman cracked a smile and looked up at Dean, "You will help prove my innocence, right?"

"We'll find who's behind this. That's what we do," he answered and put on his sunglasses, then nudged Sam with his elbow.

Sam looked at him, "I'm not doing that. I don't even have a pair of-"

Andy took another pair of sunglasses out of her jacket and handed them to him.

"Why do you carry a second pair of sunglasses?" he asked in disbelief.

"For exactly this moment."

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, putting on his sunglasses. "Did they show you the video footage from the parking lot?"

Margaret nodded, "They showed it to me while I was being interrogated to try to get me to confess... but I swear it wasn't me on that camera. It couldn't have been me! I would never hurt _anyone_."

Sam asked in the most earnest and sympathetic tone he could, "Are you sure you didn't black out? There aren't any blank spots in your memory from that night?"

"No. I mean, yes, I'm sure."

"Did you see anyone else in the parking lot when you left?" Dean asked. "Did you meet anyone earlier that day that might have taken an interest in you?" He figured a shape shifter would have had to have chosen her before that moment in the parking lot.

"I don't remember. I was just focused on getting home and starting dinner."

Andy decided to throw it out there and asked, "Did somebody hire you to kill a softball player?"

"God, no!"

Dean nodded, "If it makes you feel better, we believe you. At least, we believe you didn't kill anybody."

Margaret nodded, wiping away a tear that rolled down her cheek, and pleaded, "Find whoever did it. I just want to go home."

Sam walked back around the holding cell to the door and hit the button on the intercom. "Deputy, we're done speaking with Margaret, if you could close her cell and open the other one."

After he released the intercom button, Andy whispered, "I think she blacked out and just doesn't want us to think there was a moment she could have slipped up and committed the murder."

Dean joined the team circle and whispered, "I had to be sure we were talking to the real Margaret. There's no way she did it. My money's on it being a shifter. Let's see what the security footage shows."

"Should we talk to the other guy?" Andy asked, looking down the other side of the hall where a man was lying across his cot.

"We should at least make sure he's really him. What do you think, Sam?"

"Let's hurry, so we can go talk to the surviving players."

"I let them into the holding cells, sir," the deputy stood up to greet the Sheriff as he entered the lobby. "They just finished with Margaret, I'm on my way back to close up her cell."

Bill took his hat off his head to run his hand over his bald head like he was in the habit of smoothing out a hat crumpled hair line. "Who?"

"The FBI agents."

He looked alert, like he'd had a long day and this news woke him back up. He groaned, "Great."

"Sir?"

"Let's go," he said, motioning for the deputy to attend to the cells like he'd originally intended to. He followed him inside and adjusted his pants as he stood in the doorway to the holding area. "Finding everything you need, agents?"

"Yeah, we're almost done here," Dean nodded. "We just needed to have a word with, uh-"

"Henry," Sam finished.

The deputy moved from one cell to the other and came back to join the group at the doorway. "Personally, I don't think Margaret could harm a fly."

Bill grunted, "That's why you're still a deputy, Jon. You have to look past that innocent exterior and review the evidence. The evidence speaks for itself."

Andy crossed her arms, "Sometimes the evidence is misleading."

Bill raised his voice gruffly, "This isn't a conversation to be had in front of the suspects, fibbies."

Dean tilted his head and looked at Sam, mouthing, 'Fibbies?'

"And why are you three wearing sunglasses indoors? You look ridiculous," he huffed, shaking his belly with the expelled breath.

"Never question the FBI's method. We know what we're doing," Dean said, removing his sunglasses and tucking them into the pocket inside his jacket.

Sam took off his sunglasses, mortified, and gave a curt smile, "We still need to interview the other suspect, and we also need copies of any video footage you have in evidence."

"In private," Andy added. "You make them tense."

Bill grunted, "Not me they should be scared of. There's only one of me, there's three of you. How does that work anyway? Nice cop, bad cop... sexy cop?"

Andy raised her eyebrows and looked back and forth between Sam and Dean, "Well, if I'm the bad cop, which one of them is the sexy cop?"

Displeased by Dean's smug smirk, the Sheriff shook his head, "I'll be in my office. Hurry up."

Dean waited until the deputy followed the Sheriff out of the holding area and walked back to Henry's cell behind Sam. The young man was dressed in dirty jeans, a crumpled flannel shirt, and had a trucker cap over his face.

"I's wondering when y'all would git 'round to me," he said from under his cap and sat up, slipping it back over the top of his head.

"Walk us through the events of that night," Andy ordered.

"I ain't gotta tell you pigs nuffin."

Dean offered him a smile, "C'mon, Deliverance, just tell us what we need to know and then we can leave you to your banjo playing and moonshine brewing."

Sam nudged Dean and offered a more sympathetic voice, "We want to help you. If you didn't do this, then we want to find out who did."

"Why are you so keen to think I din't do it?" He squinted at them and pointed, "Yer FBI. If there's one thing I dun trust more than a cop, it's the dang FBI and CIA!" He hocked a loogie on the ground and wiped at his mouth.

Andy nearly jumped back in disgust when the spit landed near her feet, knocking her arm into Dean. "Clearly, he doesn't want our help. Hell, he practically made an admission of guilt. Let's just go."

"Now wait a minute. Look, I may be a drunk and have a little bit of a gambling problem, but I ain't no murd'rer! Whoever killed that guy," he shrugged, "wasn't me."

Sam took a breath and kept his voice level and calm as he gently prodded the man to open up, "Why don't you tell us about the night of the murder. Tell us what you remember."

"I was at the bar knockin' back a few brews, watchin' NASCAR and lookin' t' find my future ex-wife," he looked at Andy and gave her a tobacco stained grin.

Andy almost couldn't hide the automatic grimace her face made and quickly grinned back at him, "And then what?"

"Last I remember, I went t' go drain the ol' hog, and then... I kinda recall stumblin' down the street. My trailer's not t' far from the bar, but I only remember waking up and havin' the pigs bustin' in mah door. You know they's not even gon' pay the damages?"  
Sam clarified, "So, you blacked out between going to the bathroom and walking home?"

"Yes, sir, but I'm tellin' ya, I ain't no murd'rer. Hell, I volunteer at the homeless shelter!"

Dean leaned into Andy and whispered, "Looks like he lives there."

Andy snorted and cleared her throat, "When you went to the bathroom and woke up back at your trailer, do you remember any weird sounds or smells? Maybe a black cloud? Did you notice anyone out of the ordinary at the bar?"

"Nope. Jus' the usual sound of my rock'n'roll playing in the trailer and bar chatter. There was a weird smell though. Smelt like rot'n pineapple."

Andy frowned and exchanged looks with Sam, the encyclopedia of weirdness.

Sam wondered why she was looking at him for an answer and resisted rolling his eyes when he asked, "Is that because you had a rotten pineapple in the fridge?"

"It was behind the fridge. Don't reckon I know how it got behind there though."

Andy wasn't sure how Sam could keep a straight face through all of this and asked Henry, "What about the smell of rotten eggs?"

"Nah, it wasn't bean burrito night... Why?"

Dean chimed, "She likes exotic smells."

"Not rotten eggs," she said. "Caterpillars, though? Makes me nostalgic."

Sam's eyes shifted back and forth between them, losing his train of thought. "Okay... so, no unordinary smells." He wasn't sure why that simple question took so long to get through. "Did you notice any flickering lights when you were in the bathroom?"

"Hell yeah, I did. Dang thing only comes on half the time and when it does it's all jittery. Glad I ain't epileptic or I might have peed all over myself."

Dean nodded, "That's something."

"What about temperature changes?" Andy asked, "Did you feel like you were being watched?"

Henry grinned that toothy grin again, "Well, the ladies can't keep their eyes off me and my best buddy, 'Hank.'"

"I mean, right before you blacked out. In the bathroom."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Hank was with you at the bar? Did he see you leave by yourself?"

Henry chuckled, "Hank's with me all the time."

Dean leaned over and whispered to Sam, "He's talking about his junk."

Sam glanced upward and shifted his weight, realizing he should have figured as much. He immediately regretted asking.

Henry shrugged, "Di'nt get that feelin' in the bathroom though, but I's drunk at that point."

"Okay, so the lights flickered, you blacked out, then next thing you know you were walking home," Sam recounted. "The reports said you were scratched. Know how that happened?"

Henry looked at the scratch on his arm, "I blacked out. I's lucky to just be scratched. One time I woke up with a black eye and a bruise on my buttocks."

Andy tilted her head, weighing the luck of the situation, "Well, your skin was found under the fingernails of a dead guy."

"Can't be mine," he shook his head. "No way. I refuse t' believe it."

Andy knew better than to argue with him about it, but it was tempting to see if he had a grand conspiracy theory about the lab tests that proved the skin did indeed belong to him. "Well, I think we're done here. Thanks for your cooperation."

Dean nodded and gave him a parting smile, "We'll get you back out there so you can cook yourself up all the roadkill stew you want."

"Hey, Agents... sorry 'bout the pigs comment earlier. Y'all alright in Henry's book."

Sam's lips twitched in a smile as he followed them back out and hit the intercom. "We're done."

Andy nudged Sam with a grin, "It was adorable watching you be the straight man in there."

The Sheriff followed the deputy inside and stood in the doorway as he locked up the cell. "We couldn't find the videos in evidence. They might have been catalogued incorrectly. Sorry, folks, but I'll have Jon keep lookin' and call you if we find anything."

Dean looked around, "It can't be that hard to find. This isn't exactly Detroit."

Bill fixed him with a look and said pointedly, "We'll call you. You can go now." After they left, he turned to the deputy and slapped the countertop to get his attention. "If the goddamned feds show up, you're supposed to call me!"

Jon stared at him, confused. "You told me to let them in."

"Well, I can't bar them from entering, but I'd damn well like to know about it."

"Uh... yes, sir."

Sam checked his watch as he took his seat up front, "It's getting late."

"Let's go fill up my baby, then feed ourselves. I want BBQ and beer," Dean said, tugging his tie loose before turning the ignition on. After stopping by the corner gas station, they went to the Texas Pub down the street from the motel.

"Pub food for dinner?" Andy asked, disappointed.

"And a cold one to wash it down," Dean grinned. "Hey, the guy at the gas station said their ribs are amazing here."

Sam laid the reports and the local newspaper down on the table in front of him. "Try not to make a mess. We might need to wear these suits again tomorrow."

Andy added, "I'm sure there are better places to find ribs in Texas than a bar."

"Yeah, with more options for those of us that don't want to get BBQ sauce all over our research."

Dean shrugged, "It's a small town."

A tall, blue-eyed, blonde woman walked in wearing low rise jeans and mid-calf boots that matched her distressed brown leather jacket. She took a seat at the bar and glanced over her shoulder at Dean, Sam, and Andy situated at the table behind her.

A server came by their table with a hand on his notepad and smiled, "What can I get you folks?"

Dean grinned, "Beer and ribs."

"Just a beer for me," Sam added without looking up from the reports he was leafing through.

"Water," Andy said, wary of how unsanitary their kitchen might be.

When the server walked away, Dean shook his head, "Live a little, you two."

Sam looked up from the reports, "I don't see the interviews with the team in here."

Andy peered over the pile of papers, "No way, we saw him make the copies."

"They're not in here. The police reports from the crime scene and the interviews with the suspects are here. Autopsies. But not the others."

Dean sighed, "Well, that's just fan-tastic."

"We'll have to go back and get the copies. We need to have a clue to who the next target might be. The sooner the better."

"I'm going to need something harder than beer," Dean said, standing up. He didn't particularly feel like going back to see the grumpy old Sheriff again tonight. He walked over to the bar and rested his forearm against the countertop as he waited for the bartender to look his way.

"Long day at work?" the blonde asked.

"You could say that." Dean looked at the bartender when he had his attention, "Whiskey."

"Workin' a case?" she asked and looked over at the others and back at him with renewed interest.

The bartender poured him a straight glass and Dean took a sip, enjoying the warmth in his throat. "We're working on those recent murders. I'm sure you've heard all about it."

"Sure, I read about them."

"Did you know any of the victims?"

She sipped from the beer bottle in front of her and smirked, "Nope, not personally."

He stared at her for a moment, "Uh huh. You know, you look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere before?"

Her grin widened, "Really? I did some modeling. For a Swedish porn mag."

He paused for a second, wondering if she was joking and realized that was it. "That's it," he grinned and pointed. "Well, I better get back to work. Let me know if you see anything or anyone suspicious."

She turned on her stool, leaning against the bar, a little surprised he didn't offer to buy her a drink. "So, you haven't figured out who did it yet?"

"Not yet, but we're going to. It's only a matter of time before we Scooby Doo this sucker."

She chuckled and turned back to face the bar and took another swig of her beer as she eavesdropped on their table.

"Shit," Sam cursed under his breath.

"What?" Dean sat down, happy to see his ribs had been delivered to the table while he was at the bar. He picked one up and started chewing on it.

"We didn't ask any of the suspects if they found ectoplasm on them. We were focused on signs of demonic possession and shapeshifters."

Andy crossed her arms, leaning back into her chair, "Don't you think they'd mention finding snot all over them? And how would you even ask that question without sounding loony?"

Sam smiled, "Well, ectoplasm isn't like the stuff of Slimer. It's thick and black."

"Oh. Well, even more reason for them to say something. 'I woke up covered in whale placenta.'"

Dean made a face and looked at her, "I'm trying to eat here!"

Sam ignored him, "But we didn't ask."

Dean dropped a bone into the empty bowl beside the plate and started on another.

Sam continued, "I just wouldn't rule out possession, but with the tapes gone missing, it could have been a shape shifter covering his tracks."

"These are really good, that gas station guy was right," Dean said and held up a rib to Andy. "Sure you don't want one?"

"I'll pass, thanks. I'm gonna grab something on the way back to the motel."

"Me too," Sam said.

The blonde turned around and walked over to the table, "I can't do it anymore. Listening to you guys struggle with this one, it's pitiful."

Dean sucked the sauce off his fingers and looked up at her, "You again."

"Uh, and who are you?" Sam asked, on edge.

"Madison. And you guys work a little slow, especially for there being three of you," she said, taking the empty fourth chair at their table and turning it backwards to sit on it between Sam and Dean, across from Andy. "I'm a hunter, like you. Dean and Sam Winchester, you guys have forged a bit of a reputation now, haven't you?"

Dean's face hardened, "You're a hunter?" He exchanged looks with Sam, both curious and suspicious. "So, why don't you tell us what we're missing?"

"I specialize in hunting shifters. I've already reviewed the footage from the cameras." She took another swig of her beer, "There weren't any angles that captured the face."

Sam let out an indignant breath, "So, you're the one that took it out of evidence."

"Yeah, you guys were a great distraction though. Thanks for that," she grinned. "I also looked into the surviving players. One of them was married recently, had a bachelor party with his buddies on the team. All except one, who's gay. I'm not sure who would be targeted next, but I'd say the gay guy is the least likely, and this douche bag Dale is the most likely."

"Why Dale?" Andy asked.

"Because he's a douche bag."

Dean wasn't entirely convinced she was a trustworthy hunter. After all, he'd trusted Gordon, and he'd turned out to be as crazy as they come. "Got any more details on this bachelor party? Maybe these guys pissed someone off that they shouldn't have."

"They had it at a bar on the other side of town. Closed the place down for the night for a private party. Supposedly, they just watched the game, played darts, and got wasted. I thought I'd drop in and check up on you guys before I go check it out though."

"Are you saying you wanna team up?"

Madison smiled, "No. I was going to ask you politely to stay out of my way and find a new case."

Dean smiled back, "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're already working this one. Maybe you should take a vacation."

Madison took one of the ribs from his plate, "Thought you'd say that. No can do." She bit into the rib and licked her lips, "Fine. I'll team up with you guys on this one. Better to work together than to fight over it. That'd get messy real fast with a shifter on the loose."

Sam interrupted, "Dean, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Andy handed Dean a napkin when he looked at his saucy hands.

"Thanks," Dean took it and moved with Sam away from the table. "What's up?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should call Ellen or Bobby, see if either of them know her."

"I planned on doing that as soon as we got back to the room. I figure it's better to have this chick where we can see her than stalking us where we can't."

Madison looked at Andy, "Why aren't you included in the team meeting?"

"Uh..." Andy looked over at them talking quietly and suspiciously across the room. She shrugged, "Because I'm keeping you company. I'm Andy, by the way."

She stared at her for a moment, sizing her up, and smirked, "Cute."

Dean sat back down at the table, followed by Sam, and asked, "So, where are you staying?"

"The Angry Bull. Great name, right? Sounded promising," Madison answered, taking one of his clean napkins off the table to clean off her fingers.

Andy raised an eyebrow, "When did you check in?"

"This morning."

Dean lifted up another rib, eyeing her suspiciously. "You're quite the stalker."

"It's one of my many talents, but I'd hardly call it stalking when I checked in before you. More like 'psychic premonition.'"

Sam looked at her, "You didn't really have that, did you?"

"No, I call that 'a joke.'"

Dean dropped another bone in the bowl and wiped sauce from the corner of his mouth, "Why don't you tell us more about yourself since you seem to know all about who we are."

"I think you know all you need to know about me, Dean."

"You have us at a disadvantage."

"I like it that way," Madison smirked and looked at Andy. "Can't say I know a thing about her though. Yet."

"And I like it that way," Andy retorted.

Madison grinned, raising her beer bottle before taking a drink, "Cheers."

Sam looked at Andy when he heard a rumbling gurgle from his right. "Was that you?"

She frowned, "Yes. I'm hungry."

"Let's go get some real food. I'm hungry too."

Madison swished the remaining contents of her beer bottle back and forth and looked at Dean, "Care to go bar hopping with me? For the job, of course. Gotta interrogate the owner. Could be fun."

He finished off his last rib and wiped his hands on his dirty napkin. "Which bar?"

"The Staggering Steer, about a mile down the street."

"Texans sure love their cattle." He reached into his pocket and tossed his keys to Andy, "Don't let Sammy drive. He's a light weight when it comes to alcohol."

"I only had one beer," Sam protested, "It takes more than that to get me drunk."

"Shh," Andy held up her hand, "He's entrusting his baby to me. Let me revel in it for a minute."

"If you scratch her, he'll break up with you," Sam joked.

"SAM!"

"I'm just kidding," Sam chuckled.

Dean grinned and stood up, readjusting his tie, then bent down to give Andy a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll take care of my baby as if it were your own... puppy or kitten or some other cute animal that you would feel bad about dropping on its head."

"Yes, I will. Stay out of trouble."

While Andy and Sam searched for a decent restaurant, Dean walked with Madison down the street toward the other bar. "So, how long have you been hunting?" Dean asked, placing his hands in his pockets as they walked. He hated walking long distances in dress shoes but they were broken in enough that he wasn't worried about blisters.

"I can't tell you when training began, but I guess you could say I started hunting when I was eighteen." Madison hoped he didn't plan on interrogating her the whole way to the bar, but even though she'd deny it, she enjoyed talking about herself. No matter how much she told him, she felt like he'd never really know her.

He nodded, "My training started when I was six, and I went on my first hunt when I was sixteen."

"So, you can relate," she smiled and mimicked his posture with her hands in her pockets, though they came up higher on her waist. "What was your first?"

"A werewolf," he answered with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "My dad was with me, but we chased him into the woods." He looked at her with a sense of pride, "Got him with a silver tipped arrow to the heart."

"First shot?"

"Yeah."

"Good aim," she nodded approvingly. That was better than she was capable of at that age, maybe even now.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he glanced at her, curious, "What about you?"

"A ghost," she answered guardedly. "A death omen."

"Huh. We just dealt with one of those a few weeks ago," he said, kicking a rock out of his path on the uneven sidewalk. "Tricky bastards."

They walked in silence for the next half mile. Dean had a lot of questions, but he wasn't sure if it was rude to ask. He didn't meet too many hunters, but he knew from Gordon that they couldn't all be trusted and that there was a lot more than meets the eye. He wouldn't ask her why she was a hunter because he didn't particularly want to answer that question himself. But he was curious about something else. "Were both your parents hunters?"

"Yes." She looked at him and saw that he'd expected more of an answer than that, "We were also being hunted, so we were always on the move."

"I know how that feels. There are a lot of bad guys who would love nothing more than to gank a Winchester."

"Your dad especially," she said.

Dean stopped in his tracks and looked at her, his heart pounding in his ears with a rush of adrenaline. "What did you say?"

She stopped and looked at him, "I didn't mean any disrespect."

"What do you know about my dad?"

His tone was threatening, but she wasn't sure he meant it to be. She studied his expression and answered cautiously, "Only that he's intense, and he's a good hunter. Unlike me, he'll take on anything."

By her use of the present tense, he realized she probably didn't know that he was dead. It wasn't like there was a Hunter community newsletter that went out announcing who was killed in action. Only those that were involved with him were aware of it at all. Tense, he continued walking and said, "He's dead."

"I'm sorry." She walked beside him again. "I didn't know." She felt like a jackass for being uninformed. She tried her best to stay in the loop with the whereabouts of other hunters, particularly those that weren't amateurs. John had certainly earned his status as a seasoned hunter, she knew that much.

"What do you know about me and Sam?" he asked, clearing his throat.

She really didn't know much about them, aside from what she'd heard through the grapevine. She considered herself a good judge of character though, able to tell a lot about a person just by spending a few hours with them, and she thought Dean was as dangerous as his father. Sam, on the other hand, she wasn't so sure about. She intended to get to know them better after their trip to the Staggering Steer. Until then, she was operating on confidence and a little bit of trust. When he looked at her for an answer, she finally smirked and said, "Probably more than you're comfortable with me knowing."

"That tone in your voice tells me you're not kidding about that one."

"If it makes you feel any better, I know about a lot of hunters. Much more intimately than I know you. For now, anyway."

He raised his eyebrows, "I thought you worked alone. That doesn't leave much room for getting intimate... unless you stop by the roadhouse a lot."

That wasn't what she meant by intimate, but she wasn't going to elaborate. "Funny hearing that out of you," she grinned, "I got the impression you're popular with the ladies."

"Well, I'm tied down at the moment."

"With Andy," she said, remembering the kiss in the bar. "I thought she was with Sam at first."

"Sam's still a very eligible bachelor, but I don't know if he even thinks about getting nookie anymore."

She looked thoughtful, "Are you all staying in the same room or is Sam by himself?"

"Why, thinking of keeping him company?"

"Yes," she grinned again, giving him a nudge with her elbow.

"Then, he's by himself. Room 102." Dean couldn't help thinking Sam should thank him later for being such a good wingman. "So, when did you take time off from hunting to be a model for a Swedish magazine?"

She shrugged, trying to remember when the magazine came out, "Two years ago. It's a good way to make money."

"Yeah, but I thought you liked flying under the radar."

She chuckled, "You're the first person to call me out on it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was kind of obscure, or so I thought. I was only featured in three issues. But who would suspect the model of a dirty magazine to be a hunter anyway?"

He admitted, "Surprised me." He nearly bumped into her when she stopped in front of the bar. "This is it?"

"Yep. Ready to rock and roll?"

"Ladies first," he said, opening the door.

She scoped the place out as she entered and took a seat on a stool at the bar. There were only a couple patrons seated in the corner, and the establishment was a typical bar: dark inside with wood paneled walls, dart boards, neon signs advertising different brands of beer, and a large TV attached to the wall in the corner. There weren't any booths, only a combination of rectangular tables and high round tables with stools. There was a pool table on the other side of the bar, out of the way of the television.

"Two beers," Dean said.

The bartender, a young but prematurely balding man, popped the caps off a couple bottles and set them on the countertop in front of them.

Dean took a drink and rested his arm on the countertop. When the bartender looked at him, he asked, "Pretty crazy lately with all these murders, huh?"

"Yeah, tragic," the bartender answered, "You a cop?"

"FBI," he said, habitually taking out his badge to prove it. "What's your name?"

"Dustin."

"What can you tell me about the victims? I hear their buddies had a bachelor party here."

"Look, they came here for a party a couple weeks ago, and that's it."

Madison unzipped and removed her jacket, revealing a low cut, frayed tank top. "Any security footage?"

"I, uh, don't keep cameras. Too much hassle, and nothing ever happens here to warrant them."

"Not even in the parking lot?"

He shrugged, shaking his head, "We don't really have a parking lot, we share the alley in back with the other businesses around us. Street parking only."

"Uh huh. You must have been present for their party. You own the place, don't you?"

"Yeah, no way I'd let a bunch of jackasses throw a drunken bachelor party without me being here to keep them from wreckin' the place."

Dean followed Dustin's line of sight and looked up. "Was there anyone else at the party besides the softball team?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek, "Nope, I don't think so. They were all wearing their jerseys."

Dean knew he was lying. "It was a bachelor party in a bar. You're telling me these guys didn't have a stripper?"

"Heh, two of them are married already. Their wives would have had them by the balls."

Madison wondered if the shapeshifter could be someone on the team or one of the wives, but she needed to know the motive. "Any of them loaded?"

"What?"

"Money. Who threw the party?"

"Oh, I don't think any of them are that well off. Dale threw the party though."

"Are they regulars here?"

"Every week after practice or a game. Haven't seen much of them since the party though."

Dean asked, "Was anyone not acting like themselves?"

"It was a bachelor party, man. They were cuttin' loose."

Madison pressed, "Come on, Dusty, somebody wasn't themselves that night, right? Withdrawn? Aggressive?" She noticed his lip twitch. "Who was it?"

Dustin looked around the bar, the other patrons were out of earshot and engrossed in their own conversation. "Clyde."

"The gay guy?" Madison was surprised, "I thought he didn't go to the party."

"Gay? Well, that explains it," Dustin chuckled.

"How was he being aggressive?" she asked.

He paused, staring at her, "I never said that."

Dean tapped the countertop, "Your face did. You have a tell."

"Was it Dale?" Madison asked.

Dustin looked down at a mug and poured a beer. "I'm done answering your questions."

Madison turned and pulled Dean down by his tie to whisper in his ear, "Wanna play good cop, bad cop?"

"You're just proposing this now?" he whispered back.

"Oh, come on, I never have a partner to play with."

He brushed her hand off his tie and stood up straight and backed off with his beer in hand.

"Hey now," Madison prodded gently, "We're playing nice. Why don't you just describe the events of that night? We need a timeline."

"I didn't keep track of the time."

"Try to remember," Madison urged, leaning forward, "Please."

"Well..." Dustin's eyes wandered down to her cleavage again, "if you insist."

Dean slapped the counter and glared at him, raising his voice, "Keep your eyes up and focus! What happened?"

Dustin jumped, "Geez." He set the mug on the counter behind him. He had intended to drink from it but didn't want any trouble for drinking on the job. "They came in, had a few brews, played some Texas Hold 'em and watched the game. They also played some darts and fucked up my wall. That's it!"

Madison smiled at him, "Thank you. What time did the party start?"

He shrugged, looking at Dean, "Around eight."

"And what time did they leave?"

"Around one."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, "You sure about that? If you're lying-"

"Around one," he repeated and looked at Madison.

"Hm," she looked at Dean and lied, "Didn't those reports say they left at three?"

"That party ran pretty late," Dean nodded. "Why are you lying to us about what time they left?"

"What? No, I'm not lying!" Dustin argued, agitated.

"Hey," Madison said, putting her hand over his. "Maybe somebody just got home late and reported the wrong time."

Dean didn't break his gaze as he continued questioning, "So, what did they do after they left the bar?"

"Why would I know that?" he answered, taking his hand away from Madison. "I closed the bar and went home, whatever they did after, not any of my concern." He swallowed hard, "I don't even see what this has to do with the murders. They didn't happen that night and they didn't happen here."

"Thanks for your time," Madison said, standing up. She handed him her business card and winked, "If you think of anything else, give me a call."

Dean followed Madison outside, "He's covering up for them."

"Something's not right, but what the hell is the motive?" She opened her phone to call a cab. "What if they gang raped Clyde and he wants revenge? They could be a bunch of sick hillbilly homos. Hello? Hi, I need a cab at the Staggering Steer. Yeah, we'll be outside, thanks."

Dean chuckled, "Sorry. Sick Hillbilly Homos sounds like some kinda niche gay porno. So, should we interrogate Clyde next?  
"I'd like to pay Dale a visit. But that can wait til tomorrow."

Dean leaned back against the wall and looked down the empty street. "So, what kind of weapons do you carry?"

"The usual array of silver, nickel, and iron. And salt."

"I mean, what do you keep on you?" He opened his jacket, showing her his .45 colt. "I have to have something with me or I feel naked."

"Nice grips," she said, admiring the ivory, and knelt down to pull her switchblade out of her boot. She ejected the blade with a push of a button and smiled, "I've had this since I was a kid. Don't leave home without it."

"That's all you keep on you? It's kinda small."

"Bigger isn't always better. Can't fit a big one in my shoe." She tucked it back into her boot and stood up, pulling the chain of her necklace out of her shirt. "I also keep a vial of salt around my neck."

"And a cross," he noted. "You religious?"

"Not really. Doesn't hurt to wear it though."

When the cab pulled up, Dean walked around to take the seat behind the driver and directed him back to the Angry Bull motel.

Andy sat in a diner with Sam, dipping an onion ring into ketchup while she waited for her vegetarian chili to cool. "So, Dean mentioned you were going into law school."

"I was," he said, taking an onion ring. "But there's not much room for law school when you're a hunter."

"Do you hunt because you think you have to?" she asked. "I mean, it just seems different for Dean, like he enjoys it more."

He smiled, but she could see the pain behind it. "I like helping people. But if I could choose to do something else, I probably would."

"Why can't you?"

"Because even if I stop, evil won't." He looked down at his multigrain grilled chicken sandwich and picked it up to take a bite. "And you know what our dad told Dean."

None of them understood what it all meant, but it gave Dean and Sam both a reason to be anxious and vigilant. Andy just felt bad that Sam might feel trapped in his role when he'd had other plans. She ate a spoonful of chili, "Mm. This is pretty good for not having meat in it. Wanna try some?"

"Sure," he took a spoonful and nodded his approval. "Want a bite of my sandwich?" he offered.

"No, but I will take a bite of those garlic mashed potatoes."

"Completing the trifecta of onions, garlic, and beans?"

"Dean's gonna love us tonight. You stand on his left, I'll stand on his right."

Sam chuckled and took another bite of his sandwich. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Shoot."

"What was your mom like when she was alive?" he asked, his tone cautiously gentle. "I was just a baby when we lost ours. I never got to know her."

"I didn't know mine for very long either," she said as she crumpled a cracker into her chili and stirred it around. "At the time, I don't think I realized how sad she was. I mostly remember her taking me with her to the store and buying me candy while she bought her wine. But looking back now, I can see how she was struggling with her depression all those years." She dipped an onion ring in her chili and smiled, "She was nice though. She didn't get angry with me."

"I'm sorry for asking," he said, uncertain why he'd brought it up. "At least she's at rest now."

"Yeah," Andy smiled. "It's okay. I don't mind talking about her."

"Did Dean tell you we saw our mom's spirit?" Sam asked and set down his half eaten sandwich after realizing he'd been holding it without taking a bite.

"No, he doesn't really like to talk about thing that make him feel... feelings."

Sam chuckled, "I know what you mean. He holds it in and acts tough while it eats him up. But I can be the same way sometimes."

"Suffering in silence. I think it's a guy thing," Andy said, eating another spoonful of chili. "So, what happened?"

"I spoke to her before she disappeared, and she took out a poltergeist to protect us."

"Wow, your mom sounds like a badass. She killed a ghost as a ghost?" She scoffed, "My family sucks."

"My family isn't all sunshine and rainbows either."

"That's true." She still didn't know much about the way they were raised or anything about their father, but a demon killed their mom, and that was about as far from normal as you could get. She wasn't sure how dysfunctional their relationship was with their father, but judging by the weight he'd put on Dean's shoulders, she guessed it was far worse than hers. "At least you have Dean."

Sam studied her face, concerned by her melancholy tone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just... I'm an only child, and I'm not close to my dad. I don't really have any family."

"Well, for what it's worth, you have Dean too," he smiled, "and me."

She smiled back, "It's worth a lot."

The waiter approached the table and smiled, "Is there anything else I can get for you two?"

"Yes! It's Sam's birthday," Andy grinned, pointing at him, "Can he get a piece of cake or something?"

"What?" Sam looked up at the waiter and smiled politely, "Oh, no, uh-"

"Sure!" The waiter nodded, "Chocolate fudge okay?"

"Oh, that's his favorite," Andy answered before he could protest. "Can you sing too?"

The waiter's smile looked strained as he nodded, "Sure, we can. I'll be right back with that cake."

After he left, Sam stared at Andy, "You're worse than Dean."

"Oh, come on, you're getting a free slice of cake out of it," she grinned wider.

"I don't want a slice of cake," he said, taking a sip of water. "I'm beginning to think you and Dean both live to torment me."

She chuckled, "Nonsense. We all tease each other." She took her napkin off her lap and folded it up on the table beside her plate. "So, what do you think about Madison?"

"She's not short on confidence, that's for sure."

"She better not go grabby-hands on Dean."

"She's probably picked up that you two are an item."

"That might just turn her on more. Some women want what's unavailable to them."

"I'm sure Dean would tell her to knock it off if she did try to get grabby with him." He tilted his head, "You're not really concerned about it, are you?"

Andy shook her head, "No, I trust Dean. I admit I was worried when you guys were on the road. I was afraid he'd get bored. But now that I'm with you guys, I'm not insecure about it anymore."

"If there's one thing you can say about him, it's that he's loyal." Sam knew he didn't have to vouch for Dean, but he knew what Cassie meant to him, and he'd only known her a fraction of the time he'd been with Andy. "I'm glad you two are together and making it work."

"Thanks, Sam." She looked up as five of the wait staff approached the table with the slice of chocolate cake. "Hey, it comes with icecream," she beamed.

The waiter set the plate down in front of Sam and started the chorus of the Happy Birthday song. Sam sat staring stiffly at Andy, mortified by the surrounding diners' stares. When Andy sang 'Happy birthday, Dear Sammyyyy,' he gave the waiter an awkward smile and cast Andy a look of betrayal. After the wait staff dispersed, he sat back in the booth, "Really? You too now?"

"Singing the song sounds better with a two-syllable name. Don't worry, I won't make a habit of it," she assured him. She'd only call him Sammy behind his back.

He smiled, shaking his head, and pushed the plate across the table to her. "Enjoy."

When Andy returned to the motel room with Sam, Dean was lying on the bed nearest the window. She sat on the edge beside him and leaned down for a kiss. "How'd it go?"

"Good," he answered and kissed her. "Were you eating onions?"

She gave him a guilty, sheepish smile, "Yes."

"I got us a room next door," he said, sitting up.

"I see somebody has some expectations tonight," she said, cocking an eyebrow.

"No, I didn't mean-" he grinned, "I'll explain later."

"I guess you have the room to yourself, Sam," Andy said, picking up her bag.

"Dean, what did you do?" Sam asked, suspicious.

"Nothing," he answered, grabbing his duffle bag, and opened the door to leave. "Enjoy your alone time, Sammy." He walked with Andy three doors down to room 105 and unlocked the door, then pushed it open. "Madison wanted to get to know Sam, so I figured we could give them some space."

"Hope he doesn't catch something from her."

"Sam takes things real slow. He doesn't sleep with just anyone. He'll probably talk her to sleep."

Sam fell asleep on top of the bed with the TV still on, and three hours passed before a knock at the door woke him up in the middle of the night. He sat upright and listened until whoever it was knocked on the door again before he rolled out of bed and picked up his silver knife from the table, still groggy from his nap. There wasn't a peephole in the door, so he held the knife in a reverse grip behind his back as he opened it. "Oh, Madison. Uh, Dean is with Andy in room 105."

"I came to talk to you," she said, leaning against the doorjamb. "Can I come in or do you plan on shanking me in the doorway?"

His mouth twitched, "What? I, uh..." He looked down at the knife and set it down beside the TV behind him and opened the door wider as he stepped aside and turned on the light. "Come in." He figured she probably wanted to go over the details of the investigation at the bar.

As she walked inside, she glanced at the knife. "Nice. Silver. That'd hurt."

He closed the door behind her and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you know, we might be hunting a shifter and all."

_Casa Erotica 13 is now on Channel 36. _

Sam quickly reached over and turned the TV off.

Amused, Madison sat on the edge of Dean's bed across from the table. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Sam shook his head dismissively.

"You aren't a convincing liar when you're tired," she said. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," he said reassuringly and grabbed a chair at the table, turning it so he sat facing her and resting his weight on his forearm against the table. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"How many shapeshifters have you encountered?"

He raised his eyebrows, thinking about it. "We've faced two now. We mostly run into spirits and demons."

"Ugh, demons."

He nodded, thinking, 'You can say that again.' "What about you?"

"A lot," she answered, looking around the room, even though it was nearly identical to the one she was staying in. "Over a dozen." She looked at him, "Not all of them are evil though."

He paused, curious, "Are you friends with any? The ones we've run into were leaving bodies everywhere they went."

"Uh, no, I wouldn't say I have friends. But I especially wouldn't want to get close to a shifter. Considering I hunt them, their daddy would want to string me up and skin me alive." She leaned back, resting her weight on her elbows, and stretched out her legs. "I'm just saying they're not all bad. They don't all abuse their abilities."

Sam caught a glimpse of her midriff and looked away, noticing a dark stain on the carpet by his bed he hadn't paid attention to before. "So you let them go?"

"Well, yeah, I'm not going to kill an innocent, even if they are 'different.'"

"I completely understand," he said, glancing back at her. She was smiling at him, and he found a spot on the wall behind her to focus on. "Isn't it hard to be sure though?"

"Sometimes."

He looked around and rocked in his seat, "I was going to ask tomorrow, but since I have you here... Did you and Dean find anything out at the bar?"

"Not much," she answered and walked over to him, taking the other seat at the table. She moved the chair closer and crossed her legs so her foot nearly touched his knee. She leaned back in her chair, watching him. She couldn't tell if he was uncomfortable or just shy, but watching him squirm brought her joy. "We think the bartender is hiding something. We won't know what it is until we talk to the rest of the team."

"You think maybe he's covering up a crime the group committed?"

"Could be. But then, that doesn't seem like it would be up our alley. What's supernatural about that?"

"Well, if they killed someone, we could have a vengeful spirit on our hands. We could be dealing with possession and not a shifter."

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow. If that's the case, I guess I could leave you guys to it."

He furrowed his brow, "You don't bother with non-shifters?"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I would if you guys weren't here, but I figure you'd have it covered."

"What's different about shifters?" Sam asked. "You don't think we could handle it?"

"It's not that. I just don't sit out jobs with shifters. Not anymore. I used to if I felt uncomfortable with the hunter working the job, but now I figure out how to make it work."

He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, "What made you change your mind?"

She hesitated and licked her lip, "A few years ago, I crossed paths with a hunter that was following the same lead I was. There was a shapeshifter involved. But there were two shifters in town, and one was a school teacher who had nothing to do with the crimes in the area."

Sam gave her a quizzical look, "Two shapeshifters in town at the same time? Isn't that unheard of?"

"Nope. That's the thing about shapeshifters; they're slippery, and they're all over the place. The one responsible for the home invasions was just passing through. The hunter killed them both. But it pissed me off that I couldn't protect her." She gave a soft, disappointed sigh, "I didn't try."

Sam knew the guilt that accompanied being unable to save someone. "You can't blame yourself."

"I can, and I do," she said with a short, self deprecating laugh.

"Dean and I were on a hunt, and we met Gordon-"

"Oh, 'Crazy eyes.' That's what I call him. Even when he's happy, he looks like he wants to use your head as a bowling ball."

Sam stifled a chuckle, "So you've met him too."

She nodded, "I haven't met a vampire yet, but I know who to call if I do."

"Well, he doesn't like us now. We ended up saving some vampires from him. They were trying to live in peace, they weren't harming anyone."

"It's a good thing you were there then."

He smiled and glanced down at her foot resting against his knee and glanced back at her, a little nervous. "Do you have something else to do if it turns out to be a spirit?"

She smiled, "Not really. It's not time for my annual vacation yet, but I'm sure I could find some way to entertain myself."

"You give yourself an annual vacation?"

"Yeah, I think every hunter needs a week off now and then. Every summer I take a 'vacation' but wouldn't you know it, Europe has just as many monsters as we do, some of them a whole lot worse."

"Good luck pronouncing their names too. Where have you been to in Europe?" He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, beginning to feel more at ease with her. "Kill anything... interesting?"

"I've been to England, France, Hungary, and Germany. There were two monsters I ran into in France. One was rather nice, called the Bugul Noz. The other can be found here but with a different name. The morgen, she was a water spirit that lured men to the water to drown them. Got rid of that one for them in Paris. Also killed a hound of Baskerville outside London," she grinned.

"Wait... that really exists? I thought it was just a Sherlock Holmes novel."

She chuckled and admitted, "It was just a black dog. I also investigated a haunted mine in Germany, which turned out to be a disgruntled kobold. So, my vacation wasn't too much of a vacation. But... it did keep things interesting."

Sam mused, "I imagine Dean would go crazy on a vacation where he had nothing to hunt down."

"What about you? Would you go crazy?"

"No, I'd probably go look at all the historical monuments like a tourist should."

She grinned, "Good. That's what vacations are for. Being normal. But I guess the hunts keep me on my toes."

"If you want to be kept on your toes, you should go to Japan sometime, where they have creatures that-" he stopped himself and grinned, "you know what? Never mind."

"You can't start and stop like that," she chastised, nudging his knee with her foot. "Were you going to talk about tentacle monsters?"

He smiled nervously, "No, I was thinking of the kappa. It's a water spirit that lures people into the water and..." he blinked, trying to find the words to put it eloquently, but there was no other way to say it, "pulls their intestines out through their anus."

She wrinkled her nose, "Yeah, I'm definitely not going to Japan now, thanks. I mean, that's reason enough not to go, but have you seen their horror movies? And that's not even going near the cartoons. They have more than one ghost haunting bathrooms. Bathrooms! Is nothing sacred?" she shook her head incredulously, "I also read about a sweet little old lady who curses you when you give her what she asks for. Who condemns good deeds?" She answered pointedly, "The Japanese."

Sam chuckled, "I didn't know about that one."

"And then there's the fire breathing chicken of death."

He grinned, chuckling at her wide-eyed expression. "They have a fire breathing chicken of death? Don't tell Dean about that because he'll want to go see it."

"Yep, it's called the Basan. I wonder if it's supposed to be the size of Godzilla or just a regular chicken. Seems like more of a circus attraction if it's the latter."

"Who knows, maybe that's how it started."

"I think that's how they probably start things out in Australia."

"You know a lot about the supernatural." He was used to being the encyclopedia of weird, and she'd outweirded him with the old lady from Japan. "I'm impressed."

She smiled, pleased, "Well, I've been at it for as long as you have."

"It shows.. I mean, with your knowledge... Not your looks... I mean the lifestyle hasn't made you look old."

She grinned wider and chuckled, "You're cute."

"Thanks..." he looked at her, "You're really... pretty." 'That was lame,' he thought and took a deep breath. He gave himself a self deprecating smile and a minute shake of his head.

"Really cute," she nodded.

He cleared his throat and changed the subject, "Is there anything else about shapeshifters you can tell me?"

She subdued her amusement and winked, "Well, I'm not sure how much you know, but I will try to impart some knowledge on you." She looked thoughtful and sat upright, "Shifters can't copy other shifters."

"They can't?"

"They can copy the skin, but they can't copy the memories. The skin and the memories don't match up, they're incompatible. It just wouldn't work. So, shifters are kind of immune to the whole identity theft thing."

"I never would have thought of that. What else?"

"Well, this is part is just tragic. Shapeshifters can't be actors."

He laughed, "I never thought about that before either, but you're right."

"And they'd probably make the best actors of all too."

"Can shifters shift into the forms of fictional characters? I mean characters that don't have actors playing them."

"They'd need a picture to go by."

"Think about all the dead actors that they could bring back. They would probably make action movies with John Wayne and Bruce Lee, knowing Hollywood."

"I wish we could pitch this idea," she grinned. "How would you explain the eye flares though?"

Sam shrugged, "If they can photoshop the wrinkles out of Madonna's skin, I'm sure they can work their movie magic to fix the eyes."

"I like the way you think," she said and grimaced as a headache stabbed her in the forehead. She pinched the bridge of her nose and smiled, "I guess I should let you get to sleep. I have a bit of a headache anyway."

Sam looked at her with concern and leaned forward, "Are you okay? I have ibuprofen if you need it."

"No, thanks. I'll be fine," she answered. A drop of blood slowly rolled down her lip from her nose.

"Uh..." Sam looked around and grabbed the box of tissues from the dresser beside him. He instinctively reached out to wipe the blood away, but Madison pulled back, giving him a look. "Er, your nose is bleeding," he said, offering her the tissue.

"What?" She took the tissue and wiped the blood away. "Damn." The last time she'd had a nose bleed was years before when she'd exerted herself on a case. "I'm fine," she assured him, a little mortified to be holding the tissue under her nostril. She stood up and sighed, "Didn't see that one coming."

"I can... walk you back to your room if you'd like. To make sure you get there safely."

She smiled at how sweet and silly the notion was. "Please." She sniffed and tossed the balled up tissue into the trash basket behind the door before leaving his room with him. She walked slowly down the sidewalk toward her room, whipping the keyring around her finger. She looked up at him, hesitant, "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

She kept walking, not sure how to say what she was thinking. She wanted more than anything to broach the subject with him, but for the first time in a long time, she was at a loss for words. She stopped outside her door.

Curious about what she wanted to say, Sam smiled reassuringly, "If you have something you want to talk about, you can talk to me."

"Come in."

Sam felt flattered but also hesitant, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"To talk," she added, realizing the implication of her invitation, and turned the key in the door.

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He followed her inside, a little embarrassed by his assumption.

She switched on the light and shut the door behind him, then turned and studied his face. She took a deep breath and gave into what she wanted to say. "I know you're scared."

"Scared? I'm just cautious," he smiled. "It's nothing personal against you. I'm sure you can understand."

"Not of me," she shook her head and swallowed hard, proceeding with caution. "I know that you're afraid of what you'll become."

Shocked, Sam tried to keep his composure. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know that you're afraid of hurting somebody... that you're evil."

Pensive, Sam took a seat on the edge of her bed and stared at her, his face knitted with confusion.

"I don't know if something has its claws in you or not, but it wouldn't be you if it did. You're a good person, Sam. Hell, I'd say a better person than Dean."

"How do you know about ...my problem?"

"Call it a talent. Maybe a little bit of mind reading," she said, her mouth twitching in a smile. "I won't lie. I abuse it all the time but mostly out of self preservation."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

She stepped closer to him so she stood between his knees. "Sam," she touched his cheek, and when he looked up at her, she felt her heart race. She'd never seen somebody look so vulnerable, not with her. She confessed, "I trust you. You're a good person. You see shades of gray."

"Are you another psychic?" he asked. "You don't seem like the others we've encountered. Did your mother die in a fire?"

She shook her head, "No. I was born with this gift, and I'm not connected to whatever it is you think that demon has brewing."

"So, this means you know everything about me?" he asked, reaching up instinctively to take her hand, finding comfort in her touch.

"Only the most prominent things," she said. Her heart skipped a beat when he touched her hand, and she realized she was letting herself get too close. She hadn't even realized that she was still touching him. She kept people at an emotional arm's length, and she knew she'd already let her shields down when she told him she trusted him. She didn't trust hunters any more than she trusted the monsters she hunted, but she felt a sort of kinship with him. She had similar fears about herself and how she was being hunted. Not by a demon but by an angry shapeshifter. And she'd never met a hunter like him, one that would let a vampire loose because they were trying to live on the straight and narrow.

She slipped her hand away from his and stepped back to rest her weight against the dresser behind her. "I never tell people when I go poking around inside their heads. But I wanted to tell you trust yourself. You're not evil."

He still wasn't sure whether he could trust her or not. He felt comforted but alarmed by how much she knew. "Can you tell me what I'm thinking right now? Or do you just pick up things from the past?"

"Uh, no," she smiled. "I could guess though. 42?"

He took a breath and smiled, "Not even close."

"Really?" she feigned disappointment.

He glanced down at his feet and smiled, "Thanks." He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes, "Even though you didn't respect my privacy and read my mind without my permission-"

"Sorry," she coughed. "When you put it that way..."

"But... thanks."

"I won't do it again," she said. "Like I said, I just do it to feel out the people I'm working with, to make sure they're not batshit crazy like Gordon or Harrison."

"Harrison?"

"That hunter I mentioned before that killed the school teacher."

"Does anyone else know about this ability of yours?"

"No. Well, one other person. But people don't respond kindly to freaks like me, so let's just keep this between us, okay?"

"You're not a freak," Sam assured her, "and your secret is safe with me."

"Here," she turned around and took the notepad off the counter top and scrawled her number on it. "If something happens, and you need me, give me a ring." She tore the top page off the pad and handed it to him. "I mean it."

"Thanks... May I?" he pointed to her notepad and wrote down his number when she handed it to him. "The same goes for you."

"If you do call me and you seem out of character, I'll come running and spritz you with holy water."

Sam chuckled, "If I call you and sound like the girl from the exorcist... run."

"Run? I'd exorcise it from you." She wasn't about to admit that she'd never exorcized a demon before.

"And if you couldn't?" He looked at her, his eyes still twinkling with a smile, but she could see the concern behind it.

"Then, I'd improvise. I'm a slippery one. Don't be afraid of hurting me. I can take care of myself."

"I wish I didn't have to be afraid of hurting you, but I sometimes wonder if I ever did go dark side... just what I'd be capable of."

"I hope you wouldn't turn into Palpatine. I'd find you far less attractive."

Sam chuckled, "So you're saying you do find me attractive then?"

"It wasn't obvious?" she smiled, "I know you didn't make a deal with the devil for your soul. So, there shouldn't be any monsters lying dormant inside of you. And if something possesses you, there's gotta be a way to get it out."

"I hope so." He wasn't so sure. "You're not going to commit identity theft with this information, are you?"

She grinned, "No. I don't mess with hunters."

"Good because I don't want to find out that I suddenly have a horrible credit score." He paused, "Wait, so does that mean you just mess with innocent people?"

"I..." she realized she set herself up for that but denied it, "Pfft. No."

He wasn't convinced. Smiling, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, "I should probably get going. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

She walked him to the door. "I think I'll take Andy under my wing tomorrow to check out Dale. I think she could learn a thing or two from me."

"Andy's got the potential to be a great hunter." He stepped outside and turned around, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. "I'm glad we had this chance to talk."

"Me too. I hope for another," she winked and leaned against the doorjamb.

He hesitated and smiled nervously, "Okay... good night."

"Good night." She disappointedly watched him turn and start walking back to his room. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

She wanted to kiss him, but she knew he wasn't ready, and she wasn't going to be the one to make a move on him. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

When she retreated to her room and closed the door, he wondered if he'd missed his chance or if he'd have another. He turned the TV back on in his room and lay in bed thinking about their discussion.

The sun shone through the curtains the next morning when Dean banged on Sam's door. "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam rolled out of bed and opened the door before trudging to the restroom for a shower.

"I tried calling you. Have a busy night last night?" Dean shut the door behind him and sat on the foot of his bed, grinning.

"No, I was just tired."

"Seriously? You were too tired? You're not turning into a monk, are you?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Dean. I meant I slept through your phone call."

Dean heard the shower turn on and the rake of the shower curtain being pulled closed, so he went to stand against the door. "The lobby has coffee and donuts, want some?"

"I'll take a coffee," he answered. "Hey, I spoke with Madison last night. She wants to take Andy out today."

"I know. They already left. So hurry up."

"You just let Andy go with her?"

"I called Ellen this morning, and she checks out. I don't know if I could have talked Andy out of it if I wanted to. She was pretty eager to go with her. Hasn't she ever heard of stranger danger?"

"Why did you want me to be your partner on this one?" Andy asked, looking through the playlist on Madison's ipod.

"I've been in the game for as long as they have. I thought you could use a third mentor. You're pretty new to the hunting scene, and I know it still scares you." Madison took the ipod from her and selected a different playlist before handing it back.

"Isn't it normal to be a little scared? I mean, monsters, ghosts, demons. Things trying to kill you and take your soul?"

"Yeah, but you doubt yourself." She glanced at Andy and fixed her with a look, "Got into it for the wrong reasons, didn't you?"

"I don't think there are right or wrong reasons to get into it. It's a crazy job, and I don't regret my choice."

"Yet."

"For a mentor, you're really discouraging."

Madison chuckled, "The boys think you've got what it takes, even though they're worried they'll be responsible for something happening to you. But I can see potential too. The problem is you doubt yourself, and that will screw you over in the long run."

"I feel like I'm talking to Miss Cleo."

"Shut up."

"Okay, teach me how to be a Jedi, Yoda."

"Much you have to learn, young padawan. Hmm, yes."

"Oh, God, what have I done?"

"Now to find a swamp. Think Dean will let us submerge his car so we can see if you can levitate it out of the water with your mind?"

"The Impala is like his Millenium Falcon... I guess that would make him Han Solo."

"Sam's Chewbacca?"

Andy laughed, "Yes. Yes, he is. Now I know what we're doing for Halloween."

"I guess you're gonna be Leia? I bet Dean would want you to wear that sexy slave costume."

"And I will," she grinned. She wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Dean had a thing for slave Leia. In fact, she was sure of it.

Madison chuckled, "Okay, back to business. I'm guessing you know about dealing with ghosts by now. But what are your thoughts on 'monsters'? You know, vampires, shifters, werewolves...?"

"I'm still learning, but so far vampires are a bunch of dicks. Haven't met any werewolves or shapeshifters yet."

"A word of advice," Madison said, giving her a sidelong look, "Not all non-humans are the same, and I recommend you follow Sam's example closer than Dean's."

Andy looked at her, "Why would you say that?"

"Dean likes to shoot first and then ask questions later. If it's not human, then it needs to die."

"I don't know what you've heard, but you don't know Dean as well as you think you do."

"I know enough to be able to tell he sees things in black and white. I'm just saying that you should keep an open mind before you pull the trigger."

"I will. Any other advice you want to give me? Without passing judgment on Dean."

"Have they taught you how to kill a shapeshifter yet?"

"Decapitation or silver, right? Dean told me I'd be quizzed on this later..."

"Right. Silver injures a shapeshifter, but if you get them in the heart, it's game over." Madison slowed and pulled to the curb in front of a yellow two-story house with a dry and dying lawn. She reached across Andy's lap to open the glove compartment and took out a Smith and Wessen .45 revolver, then she stepped out of the car and approached the front door ahead of Andy. "Let me ask the questions, Janis," she said, tucking the gun into the back of her pants.

"How do you know my name?"

As they walked up the front steps, Madison could see the door had been broken in. "Okay, plan B." Nudging the door open with her foot slowly, she took out her revolver and cocked the hammer.

Andy removed her gun from her jacket and inserted the clip from her pocket. Dean had loaded it with silver bullets for her and told her not to waste any. She had the feeling they were going to find a body. "We're too late."

"It could still be here," Madison said as she checked behind the door and glanced up the stairwell. "You look downstairs, I'll take the second floor."

Andy's heart raced as she made her way into the kitchen as quietly as she could, suddenly wishing she had Dean or Sam with her in case something happened. After all, Madison had made it clear she preferred working alone.

Madison stepped carefully up each stair, taking the last few quickly before sharply turning the corner. A thud came from the bedroom on her left, and she placed her ear against the door before turning the knob and pushing it open. Two rotund men around the same height and weight were on their feet in a struggle to overpower one another. She raised her gun, uncertain which of them was the victim. "Dale?"

The light-haired man crashed into the wall with another thud and his eyes widened as he looked over his attacker's shoulder. "Help me!"

The attacker looked back at her with matching panic, "Don't listen to him! I'm Dale! Help me!"

Madison sighed and looked around the room, spotting a framed photo on the dresser. While the light-haired man head-butted his attacker and pushed him away, falling to the ground with him, Madison examined the photograph of the softball team until she saw Dale standing in the back of the group.

The dark-haired man punched Dale across the jaw, knocking him out, and stood up to lunge at Madison. She raised her gun and pulled the trigger, piercing the lung of the attacker but missing his heart. A glimpse of metal caught her eye and she caught him by the wrist before he could try to stab her, but he grabbed her other hand so she couldn't pull the trigger on him again. She spun him into the wall and slammed his wrist against it to force him to drop the knife, then she punched him in the nose to daze him.

The heavyset man roared as he dug his nails into Madison's hand and pushed away from the wall, throwing her across the room. She was sent reeling over Dale's unconscious body as she tried to remain on her feet and landed on the bed behind him. She quickly raised her gun again and fired two rounds into his chest.

Andy had come running at the sound of the first gunshot and barged in as Madison fired the last two rounds. "Are you okay?"

Madison kept her gun trained on the attacker and noticed he'd torn through the skin on her hand during the scuffle. "I'm fine. I got it. Let's go."

"What about Dale? Is he okay?"

"He'll wake up." She tucked her revolver into the back of her pants and stood up. "Let's get out of here." She walked past Andy and down the stairs, stuffing her injured hand into her pocket as she went.

"Are you hurt?"

"It's just a scratch. I'll be okay." She could feel the flap of skin catching on the inside of her pocket and winced.

"Can I see it?"

"What are you, ten? No. I'm fine." She picked up her pace to get ahead of Andy and inspected the damage. She hissed as she tore the loose skin off the top of her hand and looked back over her shoulder. Andy was coming up behind her, so she put it in her pocket. She knew she couldn't just drop it on the ground without Andy noticing and freaking out about it.

"I didn't want to look for my amusement. I just wanted to see how bad it is," Andy said, closing the broken front door behind them as best she could.

Madison rolled her eyes and smiled, "Thanks for caring, but I'm fine." She realized she was going to have trouble hiding it without it being obvious that she was hiding it, especially driving one handed.

Andy noticed immediately when Madison turned the key in the ignition that her 'scratch' was a pretty nasty abrasion. She didn't get a good look before Madison pulled the sleeve down on her jacket, but from what she could see, it looked bad. "Let's get a first aid kit from the CVS down the street and patch you up. You don't want that to get infected."

Madison kept her hand in her pocket as she drove and nodded. It would get Andy off her back, and she did need gauze to cover it up.

Andy dialed Dean. "Hey, we just killed the shapeshifter in Dale's house. Meet us at the CVS on Main street and 22nd."

"Really? Awesome. You just saved us 20 minutes of waterboarding this guy for information."

Sam looked at Dean as if to say 'Really?' He turned back to Clyde and his mouth twitched in a smile, "He's just kidding."

"See you soon," Andy grinned and hung up.

"Let's go get some icecream," Dean said and started walking back to the car.

"Uh," Sam looked at Clyde, who looked as confused as he felt. "Thanks for your time." He followed Dean and looked at him over the top of the car, "What was that all about?"

"Andy and Madison got the shapeshifter. Intercepted it at Dale's house, I guess."

Sam nodded approvingly, "That was easy."

Dean sat down in the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel.

Sam gave him a moment and prodded, "What are we sitting here for?"

"It was too easy, wasn't it?"

"There was another hunter on the case. You said yourself, she checks out."

"Yeah, but... I dunno, something's not sitting right with me."

Madison pulled her Ford Mustang into the back of the CVS parking lot and put on her sunglasses. "I'll make this quick. You can wait outside for the boys."

"I'm gonna get a drink," Andy said, closing the passenger door, and followed Madison inside.

Madison walked to the pharmacy end of the store and walked through the aisle with the bandages. She found a box of gauze and knelt down to open it, then pulled up her sleeve to wrap the gauze around her hand. She tore the material with her teeth and tucked the gauze into itself, then pulled her sleeve down and stood up, startled to find Andy standing behind her. "Damn it, Andy," she breathed. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry," Andy said, handing her a bottle of water. She kept her composure, but she was suspicious. What she saw looked more like a third degree burn on Madison's hand, and there wasn't a drop of blood on her.

"Thanks."

"Let's pay for these at the pharmacy," Andy said, walking past her, and glanced up at the TV in the corner above the counter that showed the security camera footage to the customers in real time. "The register at the front has a long line."

Madison set the water bottle on the counter with the open package for the gauze before reaching into her jacket for her wallet. "I got it."

Andy moved around her to stand on her right, where the security camera was mounted to the ceiling. "Madison."

"What?"

When Madison turned her head to look at her, Andy snatched the sunglasses off her face and looked up at the TV in the corner, shocked to see her eyes flare on the monitor. Before Andy could react, Madison punched her in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of her, and sprinted for the front of the store.

Gasping, Andy keeled over for a moment with her hands on her knees as she struggled to breathe. She looked up and staggered around the pharmacy counter to the emergency exit as she caught her breath. When she opened the door, Madison just passed her, and she gave chase, only a second behind her.

Madison hadn't scoped out the exits and didn't anticipate Andy cutting her off, so she ran past her Mustang, confident she could outrun her without having to fight. When Andy reached out and grabbed her by the back of her leather jacket, she twisted and slipped out of the jacket without stopping, but she stumbled as she tried to correct herself, giving Andy time to close the space between them.

Andy grabbed her around the waist but loosened her hold when Madison threw an elbow back, hitting her on the side of the head. She inwardly cursed, realizing she'd left her gun in the car. She'd have to beat Madison in hand to hand combat, and she had no idea what she was capable of. She needed to stall until Dean and Sam showed up.

"I don't want to hurt you, Andy-" Madison jumped back, sidestepping a punch, and grabbed Andy's forearm. Moving behind her, she twisted Andy's arm behind her back. "But I'll kill you if I have to."

Andy slammed the back of her head into Madison's nose and turned around to deliver a two punch combination to her face, then she raised her arms up to block Madison's counter punch. At the same time, she stepped forward, delivering a knee to her side.

In desperation, Madison grabbed Andy and pulled her to the side as she stuck her leg out in front of her to trip her. Andy turned her body as she landed, using the momentum to roll Madison over on her back. She brought her leg over her body to straddle Madison's stomach and punched her in the face again before she remembered what Dean mentioned to her about the knife in Madison's boot.

"HEY!" Dean shouted.

"She's a shifter!" Madison cried, "It's trying to kill me!"

Andy froze, holding the knife in her hand, and looked up at Dean as he drew his gun and aimed it at her. "She's lying!"

"Get up!" Dean ordered.

Andy glanced down at Madison, who had a pretty convincing fear stricken look on her face, and stood up, still holding the knife. "Dean, she's the shifter, not me!"

"Great..." Dean sighed, "So, which one of you is wearing the skin suit that doesn't belong to you?"

Madison stood up slowly with her hands up so he knew she wasn't going for her weapon. In unison, she and Andy both said, "She is."

Sam ran up behind Dean, "What..."

"One of them is a shifter," Dean said, keeping his gun trained on Andy because she was holding the knife.

Sam looked at them both with his eyebrows raised and fished in his pocket for his phone. When he held it up with an outstretched arm to record them so Dean could see the screen too, Madison sighed and grabbed Andy to use her as a human shield, bringing her forearm across Andy's throat.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed. "Let her go!"

Madison tried to grab her hand to prevent her from stabbing her with her own switchblade, but Andy jerked her hand free, slicing through her palm. Madison winced as the flesh sizzled under the torn gauze, and she felt the fiery burn of silver catch her side. This time she caught Andy securely by the wrist and dug her finger into a pressure point that caused her to open her hand and release the knife. Andy elbowed her in the ribs with her other arm to try to twist free, but Madison pulled out her revolver and pressed the muzzle against Andy's jaw. "You're being a real pain in my side, Andy." Gripping the handle with a shaky hand, Madison pulled the silver blade out of her and dropped it on the ground.

Dean kept his aim on Madison's head. "Let her go, Madison! If you hurt her, I'll tear your lungs out!"

"I can't do that, Dean. Because she's the only thing standing between me and a silver bullet. I know you're a damn good shot."

Sam held his hands up to calm them down, "Wait, okay, wait. Just let Andy go, and we'll let you go."

Madison scoffed, "Yeah, right. Dean wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in me, Sam. Tell you what. You two get back in your car, drive away, I'll let Andy go, and I'll disappear."

"No chance I'm leaving you alone with her," Dean growled. "Who's to say you won't kill her and switch places with her. No chance in hell, freak."

Sam kept his composure and looked at Andy, "When did you lose sight of Madison?"

"When we went to Dale's house, we split up to search the place," Andy answered, eyeing the knife at her feet.

"How long were you separated?"

"I don't know, maybe three minutes. I heard gunshots and ran upstairs. There were two bodies on the ground, and she wanted to get out fast."

Sam wasn't sure if that was long enough for a shifter to take her place, but he didn't think it would be.

"Dale is fine, he was just unconscious," Madison muttered.

"What happened to the real Madison?" Dean said, glaring at her. "When did you steal her identity?"

"She's fine," Madison answered, reluctant to be more specific than that.

Sam tilted his head, thinking about their discussion and the dead body in Dale's house. "So you killed the shapeshifter?"

"Sam! She _is_ the shapeshifter," Dean gawked incredulously. "You've been standing here as long as I have, haven't you?"

"I don't think so, Dean."

"Dude, the camera doesn't lie. You saw it yourself."

"Can you prove you're not the killer?" Sam asked, looking at Madison.

Dean scoffed, "How can she? Shifters take on the person's memories when they steal their identity."

"Not if she's a shifter," Sam answered without taking his eyes off Madison.

"Wait... What?" Dean shook his head, confused.

Sam explained, "A shifter can't copy another shifter. It makes sense. If Madison were borrowing someone else's skin, the shifter would copy the other person's skin, not Madison's. It couldn't steal her memories because they don't belong to that skin."

"Either way, man, she's a shapeshifter. You saw the creepy eyes."

Madison sighed, "Bobby."

"What about Bobby?" Dean glared at her and looked at Sam, "Did you tell her about Bobby?"

Sam knew she'd already learned whatever she wanted to about he and Dean.

"Call him," Madison said. "Tell him you're trying to kill me, see what he says. Do it."

Dean stared at her for a second and took his phone out of his pocket without lowering his weapon.

"Don't accidentally squeeze that trigger," Madison said.

"Dean? Is everything okay?" Bobby answered, standing by the kitchen sink.

"Nope. Not at all. Do you know a hunter named Madison?"

"Madi?" Bobby sighed and dropped his paring knife in the sink and set his apple down on the counter. "She in trouble?"

"She's a shapeshifter, Bobby!" Dean yelled into the phone.

"Don't hurt her, Dean. She's not what you think."

"We're down here hunting a shifter, and she just happens to show up. Can't be a coincidence."

"Shifters can't steal the 'identity' of other shifters, Dean. Didn't you dad teach you that?"

"No..." Dean cast Sam a sidelong glance. "But Sam might've mentioned it."

"Well, he's right."

"So, what do we do?"

"Let her go, ya idjit!"

Dean sighed, "Fine. We'll talk about why you're protecting a shifter later. And how insane that sounds."

"I'm sure whatever is going on is a misunderstanding, Dean. She's a good person."

When Dean lowered his gun and closed his phone, Madison lowered her revolver and gave Andy a little push toward them. "This is why I work alone," she said and picked up her knife off the ground to slip it back into her boot.

"You okay?" Dean asked, looking Andy over.

Andy was sore, but she did start the fight so she wasn't going to complain about it. She turned to face Madison. "Madison. Sorry I stabbed you. I didn't know you were... you."

"Huh." 'That's a first,' she thought, walking past them toward her car. "Apology accepted."

Dean watched her walk away and asked, "So... what's it like to change skins? If you change into a dude, do you... completely change into one?"

Madison chuckled and rolled her eyes, "Yes. It's a good thing you're not a shifter, you'd probably sit in front of a mirror and diddle yourself all day. But I guess you'd be harmless."

"What?" Dean scoffed, but he looked like he was giving it some thought. "No, I wouldn't."

"Does it hurt?" Andy asked, "I mean... your skin coming off?"

She'd never really been asked about it before since nobody ever knew her secret. "Losing the skin's not the part that hurts. It's kind of like a lizard shedding its skin. The nerve endings are dead when I change." She held up her bandaged hand where the man had torn her skin off. "This hurt though."

Andy poked her cheek. "It feels so real."

"Because it is!" Madison said, swatting her hand away.

"Sorry."

"Come on, guys, leave her alone," Sam started.

Madison stuffed her hands in her pockets and felt the piece of skin she'd hid inside. "Hey, Dean."

"What?" he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Have a souvenir," she grinned and tossed it at his chest. She cackled at the disgusted face he made when he looked at what he caught.

"Ugh! Sick!" Reflexively, Dean threw it at Sam, who brushed it off his jacket.

"You had that in your pocket this whole time?" Andy stared at her.

"You were glued to my hip the whole time. What else was I gonna do with it?" She felt a sharp pain in her side when she chuckled and sighed, "I'm going back to the motel now."

Sam walked with her, "Can I drive you back? You're hurt-"

She handed him her keys. She didn't think about it until after she did it. She'd intended on walking away and never seeing any of them ever again, but she didn't want to walk away from Sam and never see him again.

Andy took Sam's seat up front in the impala. "Sam is such a softy. It's sweet."

"Oh yeah, he's a real teddy bear when it comes to these monsters."

Andy shot him a look of disapproval, "Madison's not that bad. Think she'll be okay?"

"She'll be fine. She won't die from that wound."

"Does she have a healing factor like Wolverine?"

Dean grinned, "Something like that, not as fast though, especially since you hit her with silver."

Andy frowned, "So, what did Bobby say to you?"

"Bobby never mentioned anything about her to us before, but he knew her. He called her 'Madi' and used his protective dad voice on me."

"I want to meet Bobby..."

"You will soon." When Dean stopped for the next red light, he leaned over and kissed Andy. "I'm glad you're okay."

She returned his kiss and grinned, "Would you really have ripped her lungs out?"

"Nobody messes with my girl."

"Think she'll forget I owe her a pair of oakleys?"

"Oh, she seems like the type who won't forget and even if you don't see her for three years, she'll bring it up. 'Remember the time you broke my sunglasses...'"

Andy laughed, "Damn. Well, I didn't break them. I stole them... then she punched me and I dropped them. I'm sure they're long gone by now though."

"Just grab her another pair from the gas station if it matters that much to you."

"No way. That'll just remind her about them if she did forget."

Sam glanced at Madison as she inspected the puncture wound in her side. "How bad is it? I know you can't die unless you're beheaded or pierced in the heart by silver, but... that's a lot of blood."

She wiped at the blood smeared around the one inch slit adjacent to her belly button with her shirt. "I wouldn't be surprised if there are slower ways to kill me. Like... old age. But I'll be okay."

"I have a first aid kit back at the room. Do you need stitches?"

"No, the cut isn't wide, just deep. The silver kind of cauterized the skin anyway." She inspected the cut across her palm, which was long but shallow, also not serious enough to warrant stitches.

Minutes of silence passed between them, and when they were coming up on the motel, Sam broke the silence. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't think 'Hey, by the way, I'm a shifter- but not the one that you might be hunting right now- so it's okay' would have gone over so well. Actually, I think Dean would have shot me right as I finished that sentence."

"I meant... last night."

"Survival instinct. I don't tell anybody, especially not hunters." She kept her hand pressed to her side and sighed, "I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"I understand." He pulled the car into the space in front of her room. "Do you, uh... use this body as your default?"

"Yeah, you could say this is my 'hunting skin.' Picked it out of a magazine."

"I remember that magazine-" Sam paused and realized his admission. "I mean, I only saw the cover."

Madison grinned, "I wasn't on the cover."

Sam cleared his throat and went around the car to help her out. Seeing the disbelieving smirk on her face, he insisted, "Really, I didn't recognize you until I was told. I doubt anyone else besides Dean could tell."

"Well, I guess we're kind of even."

It took him a moment to realize what she meant and stammered, "Oh. I... I better go get that first aid kit. I'll be right back."

She walked into the motel room and pulled her boots off, then lay back on the bed while she waited. When Sam let himself in and closed the door, she didn't look at him. "I shouldn't have said that. I know it's weird, and you probably feel violated now."

He took a chair and pulled it beside the bed and sat down. "It's a little weird, but I know why you did it." He opened his first aid kit and set it down on the bedside table, then removed the alcohol swabs. As he tore a packet open, he looked at the bloodstain on her shirt. If the only way to kill a shifter was with silver or by decapitation, they wouldn't be affected by viruses or bacteria, or at least that's what he thought. "Can shifters get infections?"

She lifted her shirt up and moved closer to the edge of the bed, propping the pillow up behind her head. "I've never had one, but I usually avoid silver." She smiled ruefully, "Funny, I really thought if someone were to stab me, it would be Dean, not Andy. She's full of surprises."

As he cleaned the skin around her wound, he wondered just how many hunters she'd looked into and how she became one herself. "Have you met a lot of hunters or do you try to steer clear of them?"

"If I see a new face in a hot spot like the Roadhouse, I'll do my homework, but I don't work with other hunters unless I have to."

He set the swab down and picked up a small tube of salve. As he spread the ointment on her skin with a cotton ball, he asked, "Did you ever meet our dad?"

She could see the curiosity mixed with concern on his face and nodded, "Yeah."

He waited for her to say more, but she remained silent. After capping the ointment, he picked up a dressing from the kit and applied it to her abdomen. "What did you learn?"

She thought about it for a moment and confessed, "He was in a constant struggle with himself over how he raised you two. He hated leaving you two alone, and he wanted you to have normal lives, but he didn't think it was possible." She glanced down at his hand resting on her stomach where he held the dressing in place. "He was obsessed with finding the thing that killed his wife. I got away from him as quickly as I could because I knew the moment he saw me for what I really am, he'd put me down. And that's the same vibe I got from Dean."

"Thanks for telling me..." Sam noticed his hand was lingering on her stomach and retrieved the medical tape from the kit to apply to the dressing. "Dean's always tried to follow in dad's footsteps."

"But you don't."

"I just couldn't be the 'fall in line and follow orders' soldier that Dean was."

"I like to think I live by my own rules, but I know if I hadn't been raised by hunters, I'd be living a completely different life right now. Doing what, I don't know." She smiled at him, "Can you imagine if you'd grown up in a normal household and your father encouraged you to go to law school? How do you think you'd have rebelled then?"

"Uh..." He grinned, "I'd probably have grown a beard and joined a biker gang."

Madison laughed, "Nice. So your alternate reality self still kicks ass."

Sam closed the kit up. "I was wondering something else too."

"Shoot."

"Do you have a form of your own? Like a 'true' form?"

Her smile faded, "No, uh... Ever since I can remember I've been copying people. But I think I know what I would look like if I did."

"You do?"

"I knew I was adopted at a young age. My parents explained everything to me, except they wouldn't tell me anything about my birth mother." She sat upright and cross legged as she tugged her shirt back down. "They didn't lie about knowing about her, they just didn't want to tell me everything to 'protect' me. So, when I was a teenager, I took advantage of my abilities behind their backs." She smiled ruefully, "Well, they probably figured it out and just didn't say anything. I always had to have all the answers, and they knew me pretty well."

"How did you find out?"

"I shifted into my dad. Which... was a big mistake. He tried to act like he didn't know, which is why I'm not entirely sure if he did. That was one rule they trusted me not to break. But I thought I deserved to know about my real parents."

"Why was it a huge mistake if he didn't find out?"

"Because I knew how he really felt about me."

"How did he really feel?" Sam asked, furrowing his brow. He'd always wondered the same thing about his father.

"When he found me and knew what I was, he wanted to kill me. But my mom-that is, his wife, not my birth mother-didn't let him. He grew to love me, but I always knew what he would have done."

"But he didn't."

"They wanted me to be normal, but I was never very good at it. Anyway, I found out who my mom was. They didn't want me to go see her because they thought it would put us in danger. But I did it anyway, and when I met her, I asked her the same questions my father asked before that she'd refused to answer."

"Did she answer this time?"

"Yeah. I found out that she'd been raped by her ex-boyfriend at the time, and she gave me up a few months after I was born, but she wouldn't say why. I didn't have to read her mind to figure that one out. I stole a picture of her from before she had me, back in the 70's." She shrugged, "I keep it with me. I like to think of it as 'my' skin. At least she's half of me. But I would never wear it to hunt. Maybe someday when I feel safe, like I can pretend to be normal. Like that school teacher."

"What was it like growing up? You said you weren't very good at being normal."

She felt strange talking about herself. Inwardly, she wondered if she should stop and keep it to herself. Not even Bobby, the only other person alive who knew her secret, knew anything detailed about her past, at least not from her. Anything he'd learned would have been through her parents.

"Sorry," Sam smiled, "I'm not trying to interrogate you. I'm just curious."

"Lonely," she answered. "I was homeschooled by overprotective, reclusive hunters. We had this one neighbor down the road that would occasionally drop by with a pie or casserole. I think she was lonely too. She must have thought my parents had ten kids because for a while I was using different skins, especially when I was smaller and couldn't resist changing."

"Resist?"

"It's not like how werewolves are affected by the full moon. Like I told Andy earlier, it's kind of like a lizard shedding its skin. When I was still growing, I needed to change, and when I was really young, I couldn't control it. It was horrible and painful and embarrassing, and my parents couldn't understand it, even if they tried. It didn't make it any easier when they discouraged me from using different skins. They didn't punish me, but I always knew they were disappointed and maybe even a little scared. By the time I was twelve, I could control myself, and if I had to, I changed into the same skin I changed out of. I started going longer and longer without changing, instead of days, I could manage a couple weeks, and by the time I was eighteen, I could go over a month without changing."

"I never knew that about shapeshifters. I guess it makes sense that you'd be homeschooled."

"Yeah, but I didn't get out much. Which also means my parents spent a good deal of their time raising Rudy Huxtable and Opie Taylor."

Sam smiled at that. "How about Bobby? How do you know him?"

She was wondering when Bobby's name would come up. "He was friends with my parents. They told me if we were ever in jeopardy, they'd send me to stay with him. I see him every so often, but I don't stick around long. Wouldn't want to put him in danger either. "

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, resting his elbows on his knees. "How would you put him in danger?"

"Something was out to get us. My parents never knew if it was my father or just another shapeshifter, but they knew if it found us, it would kill them and take me away. At the time, I only knew they were my parents, and I didn't think about whether them raising me was right or wrong. They wanted to turn me into a hunter, and I guess they thought the shifter would want to turn me into a monster." She shook her head, "All I know is when I found out about my birth mother, I wanted to hunt that bastard down and kill him myself. Then, I realized it's next to impossible to track a shapeshifter. Even if you could track one by their crimes, tracking a shapeshifting rapist would still be impossible."

"Without him you wouldn't have been born."

"He's evil. Who knows how many people he's hurt? And how many shifters he's sired that weren't raised to value human lives like I do?" Hearing herself, she found it almost comical that she was being self-righteous. She bit her lip and chuckled, "I'm still a monster, and if I decided to go dark, I could do some real damage." She knew the way she operated was a choice she made every morning she woke up.

Sam looked her in the eyes, "You're about as much a monster as I am."

She smiled because he could make her believe it. "Sam, what I said yesterday... I meant it."

"Me too. Today hasn't changed anything about my offer. If you're ever in trouble, just call me."

"I wondered if it would," she admitted.

Sam smiled and hesitated, building himself up to ask. "...Can I see that picture?"

She shook her head, "I don't want you picturing me singing kumbaya. She's dressed like a hippie."

Sam lowered his eyes as he reworded his request, his mouth twitching with a smile, "Well, do you think I could ever... see you in your true form?"

Madison tilted her head and smirked, "Are you just curious or are you flirting with me, Sam Winchester?" He fixed her with a look that she could only describe as a puppy like admission to flirting. "I really would have thought the whole 'lizard' talk would have sent you running."

"I wouldn't be here if it had," he said, taking her hand. "I want to see what you feel is really you."

She found herself at a loss for words, in disbelief that Sam was still interested in her after everything he knew. She turned so her feet hit the floor and kept her eyes locked on his gentle gaze as she took her hand away. "Okay. Get out."

Sam knitted his brows, afraid he upset her. "Madison, I..."

"Out," she said again, pushing on him.

He stood up, embarrassed because he thought he made such a big request too soon. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

She walked behind him, pushing him toward the door. "I'm not mad. Just go."

He stepped outside the door and turned around. "Look, can we just-" The door shut in his face, and he sighed and leaned forward, banging his forehead on her door. He muttered to himself, "Stupid."

Two doors down, Dean poked his head outside. "Hey, Romeo."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam warned, walked past him toward his room.

"What's the matter? Struck out?"  
"Sam, are you okay?" Andy asked, pushing Dean aside so she could stand in the doorway with him.

"I'm fine."

"C'mon, Sammy, cheer up," Dean smirked, "I'm just busting your chops."

"Yeah, I know. It's not helping."

"It's what big brothers are for. Just watch some Casa Erotica and relax. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Madison went into the bathroom and took off her clothes, then carefully removed the dressing Sam just put on her. Taking one of the heavy duty trash bags from the box she kept underneath the sink, she stepped into the shower and began peeling off her skin, shedding the identity of the Swedish magazine model. The change was painful, but she'd grown accustomed to the transformation process and was able to get through it quickly without residual pangs of the tearing and breaking involved. She removed her hair, teeth, and nails as she grew new ones in, taking the form of her younger mother in the photograph. She checked her side and her palm where the silver had sliced through her skin, and the wounds still marred her flesh. Gingerly, she bent over to scoop her shed skin into the trash bag and tied it closed before taking a shower.

She shaved off her body hair and shampooed so she was smooth and clean. After stepping out of the shower and drying off, she reapplied the dressing to her stomach and looked in the mirror. She wasn't used to seeing her form in the mirror, but she wasn't unattractive; she had flawless, porcelain skin and defined cheekbones, but her hair was straight, long, and black and parted in the middle. She applied liquid eyeliner and mascara before she went to search for something to wear. She knew her pants were too long and her bra was two cup sizes too big, but then, she realized she didn't really need clothes. She uncovered her black silk robe from the bottom of her bag and slipped it on, then sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone in one hand and the motel notepad in the other.

Sam felt his phone buzz in his pocket and tilted his head at the text message he'd received: _Come back. Don't laugh._

Madison never felt nervous like this before. She'd never let herself be vulnerable, and she'd never shared any part of herself with somebody that she felt was real. She'd always played a part in her encounters with other people, but she'd laid it all out on the table with Sam, and for the first time, she was afraid of being rejected. When she saw his shadow underneath the door, she announced, "It's open."

Sam poked his head inside the room before entering. "I got your text, what did..." Sam was speechless as he closed the door behind him. She was 5'3" and Korean, though he couldn't peg down how old she was, probably in her early twenties.

"Say something," she said in a voice softer than he expected to hear out of her and stood up, desperate for him not to be disappointed.

"I..." Sam smiled and walked closer, "You're beautiful."

"And short," she smirked, giving him a push. When Sam sat on the edge of the bed so he wasn't towering over her, she climbed on his lap and kissed him softly. When she felt his warm hands on her waist, she felt her body heat up in response. She eagerly fumbled with the buttons on his plaid shirt, and after she pushed it down his shoulders, he pulled the T shirt he wore underneath it off over his head and kissed her back hard. He pulled her against him before pressing his palms against the bare skin of her thighs and pushed the hem of her silk robe up. He felt a rush of excitement when his hands didn't meet her panties, instead caressing the smooth, naked skin of her bottom.

Madison gasped against his lips, drinking in his breath, and kissed him again, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She felt him turn and lift her to set her back on the bed, and she moved with him so he was on top of her, between her legs. Gripping her hip firmly in his hand, Sam slipped his tongue into her mouth and ran his fingers through her hair. She reached for his pants, unbuckling and unbuttoning them as quickly as she could while returning his affection. Her hands moved up his sides, exploring his body as his mouth moved down to the concave of her neck and shoulder, planting kisses against her hot skin. "Sam..." her voice broke in a whisper against his ear, and she turned her head to graze her teeth against his cheek.

Sam sighed softly against her skin before reluctantly sitting up to take his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed it on the night table. Tugging the silken belt loose from her robe to reveal her breasts, he leaned forward again to kiss her as he slipped his arm beneath her and lifted her hips so she could feel his erection press against her sex through his pants. He kissed her jaw and grazed his teeth against her collarbone as he moved further down her body with his mouth to tease a nipple between his lips while he untied his boots with his free hand and removed them.

Madison ran her hand through his hair and used her feet to push his pants and boxer briefs down his hips. "Sam-" She dug her nails into his shoulder as she placed her foot on his lower back to pull him against her.

With one violent tug, Sam pulled the belt from her waist free and reached for his wallet on the bedside table.

Madison pulled his arm back to stop him and moved her hand to rest on the nape of his neck. "I'll tell you another secret I've never told anybody else," she offered, her voice barely above a whisper.

He kissed her shoulder and worked his way to her neck, jaw, and cheek. "Tell me."

She licked his lip and whispered in his ear, "Shifters can't get pregnant."  
Her words ignited him, and he parted her lips with his own, slipping his tongue into her mouth as he placed his hand on her stomach, careful to avoid the dressing on her side, and caressed her skin as he slid his hand further down to rest between her legs. The heel of his palm pressed against her mound as his fingertips slipped between her folds. He coated the tip of his middle finger with her arousal before slipping it inside of her and pressing against her G spot.

Madison moaned softly, tracing her fingers over the vein on his arm until her hand wrapped around his wrist, and she pushed his hand away. Breathing heavily, she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him off of her so she could lift her head and look down between her thighs at his engorged member as she wrapped her fingers around it and guided him to her entrance.

Sam hooked his arm around her waist as he penetrated her slowly, spreading her tight walls as he pushed into her deeply, filling her as much as he could before meeting resistance. She gripped his hips and arched her back as she relaxed to accept him, then stirred her hips as he began to pull back. She moaned airily as she ran her hand over his defined abs and up his chest before pulling him down by the back of his neck for another kiss. When he began thrusting into her with long, powerful strokes, Madison broke their kiss and squeezed his hair at the roots as she bit into his shoulder.

His labored breaths and quiet grunts sent tendrils of pleasure through her belly as he filled her. Her whole body perspired as she focused on the sensation of his movements and writhed to meet his thrusts. With each stroke, his pelvis met her mound, teasing her sensitive bud and bringing her closer to climax. She felt his hand slide up her back and tilted her head as his fingers became entangled in her hair and his lips brushed against her neck. She moaned sharply against his ear, "Don't stop..." She moved her hand up his arm to rest on his bicep and felt his muscles flex as he lifted her hips to meet his. "That feels so good."

Grazing his teeth against her neck between kisses and licks, Sam made sure to pause and press himself firmly against her clit after each long stroke, giving her more stimulation there before resuming his deep thrusting. He drew back slowly but his movements were steadily building with intensity as he lost himself in the pleasure of their lovemaking.

Madison tightened around him as she teetered on the edge of a powerful orgasm and moaned breathlessly against his neck, "Faster. Oh, God... yes..."

Sam sat upright and slipped his arm out from under her to grasp her bottom, raising her hips as he thrust into her faster and harder with shorter strokes. She gripped his forearms as her knees buckled, and her legs closed around his hips as her pleasure reached its peak and washed over her. Sam moaned quietly as she contracted around him, squeezing his member as he continued to thrust into her. He leaned forward and reached down to brush her hair away from her mouth to kiss her, but Madison turned her head, taking his finger between her teeth as she moaned against his hand.

Tensing, Sam thrust into her slowly as his member throbbed, and he buried himself deep inside of her as he leaned forward, gripping her chin to turn her head to meet his lips. He closed his eyes as he kissed her tenderly and brushed her hair behind her ear. His phone beeped, alerting him to a text message, but he ignored it. When it beeped again, Madison broke their kiss.

"Maybe you should see what he wants," she said. As much as she didn't want to be bothered, she had the feeling it wasn't going to stop, and she knew Dean wasn't going to cockblock him unless he had to.

"You sure?" he asked, not wanting to be rude.

"Could be important."

Pulling away from her, he leaned over and reached for his pants on the floor and fished his phone out of the pocket. As he moved to lie beside her, he noticed her dressing was stained. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She followed his gaze and sat upright. "I didn't even notice. I'll go change it."

While she retreated to the bathroom, Sam opened his phone and read the missed texts from Dean: _We have a problem. Coming over in five._

"Dean's coming over," Sam warned. He leaned over the side of the bed to pick up his clothes and pulled on his pants.

"Somebody better be dead," Madison said as she came out of the bathroom. She put on her robe, then crawled across the bed and hooked her fingers in his jeans to pull him closer for another kiss. She wanted to enjoy the time they had together before it was time to go their separate ways.

"I'm sure he has a good reason for interrupting," Sam cracked a smile as he kissed her back.

A knock came at the door. "That was not five minutes," she frowned, tying her robe closed.

"Just a minute," Sam called out and fumbled with his inside out shirt.

Madison answered the door. She didn't have time to change, and she wasn't going to miss what was so important that Dean had to come by in such a hurry. "What do you want?"

Dean looked at Madison, confused for a moment, then checked the room number. When Sam walked up to stand in the doorway with her, she opened the door wider and went to sit on the edge of the bed behind him. Dean gave her a polite smile and nodded but said quietly to Sam through his smile, "Okay, that's a little weird." He shrugged and looked at him reassuringly as if to say it was okay. "She's still hot though."

"Dean-" Sam started.

"What do you want?" Madison repeated, crossing her arms.

Dean leaned against the doorjamb. "Dale's dead."

"What?" Sam immediately went to thinking about the possibilities behind it and glanced back at Madison for an answer since she was the last one to see him alive.

She closed her eyes, sighing in frustration. "I didn't check to make sure it was a shapeshifter."

"So, what are we dealing with?" Sam asked, looking at Dean. "A vengeful spirit?"

Dean shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine, but that means this investigation isn't over."

Madison stood up. "I was in a hurry because I had Andy with me. It definitely wasn't a demon, and I plugged that thing twice in the chest."

"We're going to get a look at Dale's body, but he's still at the crime scene, so we're going FBI. You ready to suit up?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'll be ready in a few."

"While you guys go check out the crime scene, I'm going to pay Clyde a visit." She picked up Sam's boots and handed them to him. "I need to change."

Dean moved out of the way for Sam to join him. "That's not gross at all. You go ahead and do that and try not to plug the toilet." He had no idea what she did with all the goopy skin.

Madison gave him the finger.

Dean smirked at getting a rise out of her. "Did I hit a nerve? If you need to borrow the plunger from our room, just let me know."

"I think you'll need it with the amount of bullshit you spew."

Dean grinned, "Maybe you should take one of us with you. You know, just in case the murderer shows up."

"I didn't think you cared, Dean," she smiled, resting her hand on the door. "I always work alone though. I can handle myself."

"Sure about that? If it's a vengeful spirit, those can get pretty nasty."

"I'm sure, but thanks."

Dean looked back and forth between them and realized they probably wanted another moment alone. "Hurry up, loverboy," he said, patting Sam on the back before going back to his and Andy's room.

"Sorry about that," Sam offered.

Madison shrugged, "It's amusing. I've never been ribbed for being a shapeshifter because no one else knows about it. I get that he doesn't like it, but at least he's not trying to shoot me anymore."

"That's Dean for you. He's constantly ribbing me, but I think that's his big brother mentality. Are you sure you want to go alone?"

"Yeah. Believe me, it's better this way. Someone else showing up with me would be really hard to sell."

"Just be careful, okay?" he stepped closer and tilted her head back to plant a tender kiss on her lips. "I better go change before Dean comes back here with more of his jokes."

"I will." She waited until he turned to leave before she closed the door and shed her robe on her way to the bathroom for yet another transformation. She donned the appearance of Dale, and when he came out of the bathroom, he found his XXL Three Wolf Moon T shirt, a pair of shorts, and his size ten flip flops he kept on hand for cases like this. The shirt was only slightly too big and the shorts only slightly too small, but he'd just unbutton them on the drive over for comfort's sake. He grabbed his wallet and keys off the table and poked his head out the door to make sure the coast was clear before he made a run for his Mustang.

On the drive to Dale's house, Dean said to whoever was listening, "We came here hunting a shifter, ran into _a_ shifter, and now we're working with that shifter. I'm going to need some beers later."

"It's a pretty awesome super power. To be used for good of course," Andy answered.

"With great power comes great responsibility, huh? Okay, uncle Ben."

"Maybe I should give her the speech."

"Do it. Toss in some Obi Wan too."

Sam gave Dean a look, "And you call me the nerd."

Dean paused to think of a retort, "You're still a nerd." He pulled to the curb down the street from Dale's house, where three patrol cars from the Sheriff's department were parked.

The sheriff stood outside talking to one of his deputies when he saw them approach. "Great, the fibbies are here."

Sam spoke up first, "We were informed that there's been a double murder here that could be related to our case."

"Yeah, well, the coroner still needs to examine the bodies to determine the time of death. Follow me," he said, waving them into the house. "Don't touch anything until we finish up here, okay?" He stopped outside the kitchen. "This here is one of the players on the team." Dale was lying face down in the kitchen in a pool of his own blood. "Had his throat cut while he was making a sandwich. But upstairs in the bedroom, another dead body. Still trying to identify it, but he was shot three times in the chest."

Dean exchanged looks with Andy and Sam, "Maybe Dale shot the victim upstairs and all that trigger pulling made the big guy hungry?"

Sam slipped his hand into his pocket and looked at Dean, "Then, what, he slipped and fell on his butter knife?"

"Weirder things have happened."

"Did you find the weapon?" Andy asked.

Bill nodded, "The knife was bagged for evidence. Hopefully we'll pick up a print off it and find out who killed him. The gun used in the shooting hasn't been recovered. We're assuming whoever came in walked into the kitchen, slit his throat, then walked upstairs and shot the man in the bedroom."

"Any idea of their relation?"

"Uh, no, not yet."

Dean suggested, "Coulda been a hate crime. For all we know these guys were switch hitting and someone doesn't like that."

Bill scoffed, "That doesn't explain why the others have been killed and Clyde is okay."

Sam knitted his brow, "Has Clyde been informed of this death yet?"

"No. He'll probably catch it on the news tomorrow though."

Dean turned around and noticed a print hanging on the wall. "Dogs playing poker. Classy."

Bill shook his head, "Is there anything else you guys need that can't wait? Otherwise, we'll send you the lab results on the prints."

"We'd like to have a look around the place to see if there's anything relevant to the investigation."

"We've already combed through the place-"

"I like to be thorough."

"He does," Andy piped in.

Bill let out a sigh of annoyance through his nose, "Just don't _touch_ anything." He gave them one last dirty look before walking outside to talk to the coroner.

Andy looked around the floor, "We should keep an eye on the surviving players. There are only, what, six left?"

"Why don't we send them all notifications that they won a prize and gather them all up in one area," Dean suggested.

Ignoring him, Sam said, "We need to look around this place for any clue as to what these guys could have done to royally piss off a spirit. Or whatever it is that's killing them off."

Andy frowned, "But we have no idea what we're looking for."

"What about pictures?" Dean shrugged, "They had a bachelor party. I'm sure someone was taking pictures of something. I mean, hell... This isn't exactly Vegas."

Sam agreed, "Okay, let's find his camera."

"Let's split the living room. I'll go take that area near the TV and DVD's-"

Andy interrupted, "You just wanna see what kind of kinky porn stash he has, don't you?"

Dean looked guilty but tried to play it off, "No. Even if I were, it'd only be because I'm trying to map out a psychological profile of the guy."

Andy grinned and rolled her eyes, "I'm gonna check his bedroom."

Sam explored the cluttered shelves of Dale's bookcase, which unsurprisingly didn't house any books, before moving over to his unkempt computer desk.

Bill walked back inside and threw his hands up in the air, "What did I say about touching things?"

Dean was kneeling beside the TV and looked up at him with an innocent smile, "We figured this was okay since it's not in the direct area of the murders."

Sam spotted Dale's phone on the edge of the desk beside the mouse pad and palmed it, then slipped it into his pocket while the sheriff was focusing on Dean.

"Well, it's not okay! I'm keeping my eye on you fibbies," Bill huffed, repeating the habitual motion of pulling his pants up his hips.

Andy came back down the stairs two at a time until she noticed the sheriff staring at her.

"You in a hurry?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I, uh, yeah. We're due back at the office," she answered, taking the last three steps at a normal pace.

Dean stood up and pointed at Bill, "Make sure you send those reports over to us when you can. Thanks, buddy."

Sam followed Dean and Andy to the front door, nodding to Bill on his way out, "Thanks, Sheriff. We'll get out of your hair now." Once they were inside the car, he smirked, "I got Dale's phone."

"I got a digital camera," Andy grinned and leaned over the back of the front seat to look at Dean, "What did you get?"

"Muscle car magazine," he answered, pulling it out from the inside of his jacket.

Andy laughed and took it from him to look at it while he drove. "Should we go see Clyde?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, "Hopefully Madison doesn't run into whatever it is that's killing these guys."

"Hey, she said she can handle herself," Dean reassured him sardonically, "If she does run into it, she can just go Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon on the thing."

Andy raised an eyebrow and looked to Sam for some sort of explanation.

Sam chose to ignore the joke, which prompted Dean to look at him and say, "Come on, it was kind of funny."

"Just drive, Dean."

Madison knocked on Clyde's door and listened to the creak of his recliner chair in the living room and then his footfalls as he approached the front door. When it opened, Madison considered it the curtain going up. Time to act.

"Oh, hey, Dale-"  
"Clyde! You gotta let me in. I think someone's after me," Madison pleaded frantically.

"Wha- come in!" He shut and locked the door behind him, then peeked out the side window. "Who's chasing you? Did you call the cops?"

"Yeah, but they told me if a crime wasn't committed, they couldn't do nothin' about it. Dude, someone is out to get us. Do you think it has to do with what we did?" Because Dale was dead, Madison couldn't access his memories, so he was going to have to manipulate the truth out of Clyde.

Clyde stared at him, befuddled, "We, uh... no, definitely not. How could it be?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I mean, what other reason would someone want to kill us?"

"But how would anyone know? Unless... you think Dustin told?"

"No way. It all happened in his bar, didn't it? What time was it? Someone mighta seen us. What if there was a camera?"

Clyde paced, "I say we just lay low and pretend like nothing happened. I... I'll call the sheriff again."

"Pretend nothing happened?" Madison shook his head, like 'that's the best you got?' "We need to come up with a story in case they find any evidence against us!"

Clyde looked at him with raised brows, "Well, it was your idea to act like the night didn't even happen in the first place. Did you delete the pictures from your camera?"

"Of course I did! I'm not that stupid. And I wanted to act like it never happened before somebody started killing us all. Now, if the truth comes out, we need to make ourselves innocent and pin it on the others. So, we need to get our story straight," he said, looking around like he was contemplating something. "Okay, you say what happened how you remember it, and I'll come up with a way to retell it."

"I'm gonna need some scotch," Clyde said and walked across the room to his liquor cabinet. "It's still a bit of a haze, but I remember all of us drinking and playing poker. Then, Fred showed up with that girl and things got crazy."  
"Pour me one too," Madison said, running his hand through his hair. "Where did Fred get her?"

Clyde handed him a glass of scotch. "I don't know. He said something about some brothel. I wouldn't know anything about it."

"Well, I've been keepin' an eye on the news. Only stuff showing up is the murders, not missing people," Madison said before knocking back the scotch. "Okay, so Fred shows up with a girl. What next?"

"You should know! You started dancin' with that poor oriental girl, hitting her with that belly of yours."

"Okay, so we'll leave that part out. We'll say she came and had a few. Maybe I got a lap dance because of this sexy bod-eh," he said, rubbing his belly.

Clyde had a drink, "There's not much lap there to be danced on."

"Ouch, Clyde, right here," Madison said, patting his heart.

"So, the night goes on, and Fred kept trying to drag her off to the bathroom."

"I remember him trying, but I was pretty drunk. Did Fred get her in there?"

"You really need to cut back on the whiskey. She slapped him, and..." he sighed, shaking his head, "he lost his temper."

"Lost his temper how?"

"He punched her in the face."

"Okay, they can't pin that one on us. What else happened?"

"She fell and hit her head on the bar." He poured one last drink and capped the bottle of scotch. "We _can_ have this pinned on us. We helped him dig the grave."

Madison rubbed the back of his neck, "Where did we take her? I don't remember. Which is probably a good thing but still." Madison heard the sound of Dean's car pulling up outside and took a deep breath. "Oh, here we go."

Clyde heard the sound of car doors shutting and looked at Madison in a panic, "We need to hide!"

"Hang on. Chill out. Play it cool," Madison said, patting Clyde on the shoulder. He knew Andy didn't see Dale's face and was hoping Sam and Dean didn't either.

Sam saw Madison's car parked on the street. "She might still be in there."

Dean knocked on the door three times, hard.

Madison pushed Clyde toward the front door, "Answer the door, I'll come with you."

Clyde yelled in a whisper, "Are you crazy? What if it's the murderer!"

Madison called out, "WHO IS IT?"

"FBI," Dean answered. "We have some questions for you."

"It's just the FBI," Madison said reassuringly.

Clyde looked through the peephole and recognized Dean from the questioning before. He opened the door, then stepped behind Madison just in case.

"Howdy, agents," Madison grinned at Dean and rocked on his heels, "Hey, you have a purdy mouth. Wanna squeal like a piggy?"

Sam looked stunned, having never seen that reaction to "FBI" before.

Dean stared at him, "I ought to shoot you where you stand."

Madison grinned and did a hip thrust, "Now you just drop them pants!"

Andy stood behind Dean slack-jawed and looked at Sam.

Sam stammered, "Y-you're antagonizing a federal agent."

Dean scoffed, "I'm starting to see why someone would want this bunch dead."

Andy crossed her arms, "We're here to speak with Clyde. Who the hell are you?"

"Me?" Madison shrugged. "I'm the sheriff. And you're impeding on my investigation.  
So, you should all just leave."

Clyde grabbed Dale by his shoulders to try to spin him around, but he didn't really budge. He just stared at Dean licking his lips. "W-what the hell are you thinking? They're the goddamn FBI!"

Andy leaned over and stood on her tippy toes to whisper to Sam, "Has this ever happened before?"

Without taking his eyes off Dale, Sam leaned toward her, "Uh, no."

"I can't bring myself to stop it. It's like a train wreck."

"Just can't look away," he agreed.

Clyde backed up, "I don't understand what your tactic is here, man. To get arrested so you're safe in police custody?"

Dean turned to Sam, "Maybe we should just let the murders run their course?"

Madison nudged Clyde with his elbow, "Clyde, aren't you into the butt sex? Wouldn't you wanna nail this one?"

"Oh my god," Clyde groaned, covering his face. "What has gotten into you?"

Dean held up his hand toward Dale, "Okay, hoss, just settle down now. You've obviously had too much moonshine."

Madison winked at Dean, "I can't imagine you lookin' any prettier if I were drunk, boy. How's your  
gag reflex?"

Dean grabbed Dale by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall. "I don't know what your problem is, but there's something out there and it wants you dead. Believe it or not, I'm here to save your fat ass."

"If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" Madison chuckled because his big belly was pressing against him.

"Dale, stop! You're gonna get us arrested!" Clyde pleaded.

Madison turned and slapped Clyde upside the head, "What did I tell you to call me? Big Poppa!"

"Y-you never said that!"

Andy exchanged looks with Sam. "He said Dale."

Sam stared at Madison in utter disbelief.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Madison said and stifled another grin when Dean caught on.

"That explains a lot," Dean said, releasing Madison's shirt.

Madison shrugged, "I wanted to see if I could get you to pull your gun on me."

Clyde looked confused, "Explains what how?"

Madison kept his back rested against the wall. "Clyde, tell 'em where the body is."

"You set me up!?"

"I already confessed. I was just too drunk to remember where the body is, so tell 'em."

Andy looked at Sam incredulously, "This is her play and it's working?"

Madison crossed his arms. "Hey, you guys interrupted me during my chat with Clyde here. He was just about to tell me when you pulled up. They killed a hooker and buried her somewhere."

Dean went with it. "That's right. Tell us where the damn body is!"

Sam pulled out the digital camera and cell phone they'd retrieved from Dale's house. The photos had been deleted, but he bluffed, "That's right. We've got pictures, so you might as well come clean."

Clyde shot Dale a dirty look, "I thought you said you deleted those!"

Madison scoffed, "Delete pictures of a hot hooker? Why the hell would I do that?"

Clyde shouted, "Because we fucking killed her, you stupid moron!"

"Oh. Yeah. Well, I didn't. Needed 'em for my spank bank."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. Madison was both amusing him and giving him a headache with his antics. "Show us where the body is and we might be able to get you a lesser sentence."

Clyde sighed, "We took her out to Fred's junkyard and buried her there."

Madison rolled his eyes, "Well, that was a stupid place to bury her. In direct connection to one of the murderers. Real smart thinking."

Andy raised an eyebrow, "Kinda missing the point, aren't you?"

"Just an observation. You guys go ahead and take care of it. I'm gonna go change," Madison grinned.

Dean shook his head, "You're enjoying that fat suit way too much." He couldn't help but grin because she did get him good.

"We all need to grab dinner after this. I'm starving," Madison said and walked past them to leave.

Clyde hesitated, "Shouldn't Dale come with us too?"

"Don't worry about him. We don't have enough room in the car anyway."

Clyde grabbed his scarf and wrapped it around his neck before following them out to the impala. He sat in the backseat beside Andy.

"What were you doing at a bachelor party with a hooker?" Andy asked.

"Well, I wasn't there for the hooker, obviously." He pointed at a side street coming up. "Turn down that way."

"You really should have just come clean."

"You don't know how it works around here." He pointed up ahead, "It's on the left."

"What I do know is that you're in some serious trouble right now."

Dean parked in front of the junk yard and walked around to the trunk to grab his duffle bag and shotgun. Sam picked up the shovels.

Clyde led them to the gate and tried his key. "Fred must have changed the lock on the chain."

"That's not a problem," Dean said and held up a pair of bolt cutters. After cutting the chains, he looked over his shoulder, "Lead on, rhinestone cowboy."

"Ooh, I like that song." Clyde walked ahead nervously. "Now, if I remember right, we buried her... this way." He stopped beside a broken down, rusty blue truck. "Here we go."

"There's a big X painted on it," Dean looked at it. "Not very subtle."

"Start digging," Sam said and handed Dean one of the shovels.

The lights on the shack at the far end of the yard flickered and went out, followed by the lamp light on the wall beside them. Andy picked up the shotgun from on top of the duffle bag and waited for what came next. The sound of feet dragging in the dirt behind them alerted Andy and she held up the shotgun as she turned around.

"Don't shoot!" Clyde shouted, pushing the barrel of the gun down so it pointed at the ground. "That's Stinky Pete. He lives in a tent out back."

"Stinky Pete, like the prospector?" Andy raised an eyebrow.

"The who?"

"Nevermind." Andy set the shotgun back down on the duffle bag and held up her badge. "Pete, we're with the FBI conducting a, uh..." she glanced back at Dean and Sam, who slowed their digging to get a look at the homeless man as he approached. "-'investigation.' You're going to have to leave."

He didn't say a word as he trudged forward. When he wasn't more than twenty feet away, Pete suddenly broke into a hobbling sprint and brandished a tire iron. Andy shoved Clyde out of the way and prepared to use Pete's momentum to throw him into the wall behind her, but he stopped abruptly. When he swung the tire iron, she moved out of the way and front kicked him, sending him staggering back. He wore layers of tattered coats, and dirt visibly shook out from the fabric on impact.

"Is she going to be okay?" Clyde asked, moving back.

Dean grunted as he threw a pile of dirt over the side of the hole. "She'll be fine. My girl knows how to whoop ass. How deep did you bury this chick?"

"She can't be buried that deep," Sam thought aloud as he pushed the shovel in further.

Andy caught Pete by the wrist before he could swing the tire iron at her head again and kneed him in the side. When it didn't seem to faze him, she did it again, putting more of her weight into the blow. When he dropped the tire iron, he put his arm around her, squeezing her tight in a half bear hug. She released his wrist and wrapped her hand around his throat, then pressed her thumb into his Adam's apple. Grunting in pain, Pete let go of her and stepped back holding his neck. Andy blocked wide, wild punches from the homeless man and countered with a right hook.

"We found her!" Dean shouted when the hooker's arm was uncovered. As he unearthed her body, Sam stepped out of the grave to retrieve the lighter fluid and salt from the duffle bag. While Sam sprayed lighter fluid, Dean twisted the cap off their Esso oil can and dumped the salt over the corpse.

Andy ducked another wild punch and tackled the old man, then applied a choke hold from behind to control him.

Sam opened a pack of matches before Dean could flip the lid off his lighter. "You need to stop wasting lighters."

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Clyde stared in horror as they lit the hooker on fire.

"Saving you so you can go back to knitting sweaters."

Sam gave Dean a look, "From prison?"

"Guys!" Andy cried out, "Help!" Pete went limp after they dispatched the vengeful spirit, and she was pinned underneath him. The rank odor emanating from the man made her stomach turn, and she was beginning to feel lightheaded from holding her breath.

Dean hurried over to help her and caught a whiff of Pete as he rolled him off of her. "Whoa! You're going to have to go crying game in the shower later."

She brushed herself off after he helped her to her feet. "I'm not burning my clothes, but I might cry."

Stinky Pete woke up, and Dean decided to leave Clyde with him at the junk yard. They left an anonymous tip with the sheriff and headed back to the motel room. Outside, Madison, back in the form of her Swedish model, stood waiting for them. Andy took her much needed shower before they went out for dinner.

When they returned from dinner, they stopped by Dean and Andy's room. "Haha, bet you thought that restaurant wouldn't have ribs, Sammy," Dean grinned.

"At least you're not eating them in the motel room. Course, Andy would be the one who had to deal with it."

Madison smirked, "I guess I did you a favor by stealing some off his plate, so he didn't have any leftovers."

Andy chuckled, "I thought he was going to stab you in the hand with his fork when you grabbed a second one."

"Beer calms the beast."

Dean stretched and lay back on his bed, "This hunt has had way too many twist and turns. I am going to need a straight forward ghost exterminating after this. And I swear, if we hear about any more murders reported after this... God help me."

Sam stood in the doorway. "Let's not jinx it."

Madison scoffed, "The dybbuk wasn't good enough for you? You need another ghost?"

"Well, we probably would have figured it out if you hadn't come along and confused us."

Madison crossed her arms. "You're welcome for all the help on the case."

"Well, don't stay up too late, you two love birds," Dean joked, hinting for them to leave.

"Nice meeting you, Andy," Madison said, taking a step back to join Sam. "And Dean, it's been... fun."

He returned a half smile, and after they left, looked at Andy. "Shifters are such a headache."

"I like her."

"Yeah, she wasn't so bad," he admitted, "but she was still a headache."

The next morning, Madison heard a beep and woke up when she felt Sam move under her as he reached for his phone. She lifted her head, blinking away the sleep. "Time to go, isn't it?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"How long have you been up?"

"Not long," he smiled and checked his phone. "Dean said the donuts go fast, so we better hurry."

"Breakfast of champions," she yawned and sat up. "Tell him to save you one." She rolled out of bed and picked up her clothes off the floor. "I'm really not any good with the whole goodbye thing, so I'm just gonna go." She pulled her pants up and threw on her shirt, then leaned over the bed to kiss him.

"We'll see eachother again," Sam said.

She ran her hand through his hair one last time and kissed him goodbye. "I hope so." Ordinarily walking away from people was easy, but this time it wasn't. Sam was different. She hated leaving him. "Call me."

"I will," Sam said, standing up to get dressed to see her out.

"And you guys take care of eachother."

"We will."


	6. Flick of the Switch

Flick of the Switch | **29**

**Disclaimer: **_This is a work of fanfiction using characters from CW's Supernatural. I am not affiliated with CW nor do I claim ownership of any part of Supernatural. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported to be canon. (Also, obvious tip of my hat to Ten Inch Hero.)_

_ Song credits: AC/DC - Flick of the Switch, Bloodhound Gang - The Bad Touch, Muppets - Movin right along_

_Note: Chapter 6 takes place in Season 2 sometime after episode 13, in late January 2007. _

**Supernatural**

**Chapter 6**

**"Flick of the Switch"**

It was January 24th, and after lunch with Sam and Dean, Andy spent a couple hours in a Kinko's printing out the first draft of her finished novel to send to her editor. She also used that time to work on a special birthday present for Dean. She let Sam in on the secret and let him contribute a little too, but it was his job to keep Dean occupied while she put it together.

When she was done, she mailed her book to her editor at the post office and returned to the motel room. Sam had found a questionable obituary that hinted at something supernatural in St. Cloud, Minnesota, and Dean didn't see any reason to sit around on his birthday when they could be hunting. Before hitting the road, Andy handed him his gift, wrapped in a normal 8x10 sheet of paper with stick figure doodles on it. The store had been out of wrapping paper except for left over Santa themed paper, and she didn't want to use that.

"This is a present from both of us," Andy said, wanting to give Sam his due credit. "But I did the wrapping paper..."

Dean grinned, "Thanks, guys..." He looked down at the wrapping paper and chuckled, "That's a pretty sweet drawing of stick figures salting and burning a corpse. This one must be you. It has boobs."

She grinned, "Open it!"

Sam sat on the edge of the bed to watch and smiled.

He peeled the scotch tape back carefully because he didn't want to tear the drawing, and unwrapped a cassette tape. Side A was labeled _Happy 28!_ _Songs to say I love you_ and Side B was labeled _Songs for Roadtrippin'. _He grinned, "You made me a mix tape?"

She put her arms around him and kissed his lips. "Sam helped out on Side B."

Dean couldn't stop grinning, "This is awesome." He gave Andy a tight hug and kissed her hair. "Let's get the hell out of here, so I can play it in the car!"

They drove from West Virginia up north on roads still sleeked with ice and snow. Dean started the mix tape on Side A with: Bad Company - Feel like makin' love; Blue Oyster Cult - Burnin' for you; Cream - Sunshine of your love; Def Leppard - Miss you in a heartbeat; ZZ Top - Gimme all your lovin'; and Led Zeppelin - Out on the tiles.

Dean sang along to every song and gave Andy an appreciative smile in the rearview mirror for every track. When he turned the tape over to Side B, they listened to: The Doors - Roadhouse Blues; Aerosmith - Livin' on the edge; Bachman Turner Overdrive - Roll on down the Highway; Deep Purple - Highway Star; Van Halen - Running with the Devil; and AC DC - Highway to Hell. Then, there was one last song that came on, taking him by surprise.

_Movin' right along in search of good times and good news,  
With good friends you can't lose,  
This could become a habit!  
Opportunity knocks once, let's reach out and grab it (yeah!)  
Together we'll nab it,  
We'll hitchhike, bus or yellow cab it!  
_

Sam face palmed, stifling a laugh. Andy had told him she was going to include it, but he didn't believe her.

Dean looked at Sam, "Did you?"

He shook his head and pointed back at Andy with his thumb, who started singing along in the backseat.

_ Movin' right along.  
Footloose and fancy-free.  
Getting there is half the fun; come share it with me.  
Moving right along (doog-a-doon doog-a-doon).  
We'll learn to share the load.  
We don't need a map to keep this show on the road._

Movin' right along,  
We've found a life on the highway.  
And your way is my way,  
So trust my navigation.

She leaned over the seat back to kiss Dean on the cheek.

He grinned, "This is like our life summed up in a song ...minus the killing, alcohol, and tragedy."

"So, it's not like our life at all," Sam said.

"Don't ruin my moment, Sammy."

When they reached their destination, they stopped at a Days Inn and checked into a dingy room. When Dean switched on the light as they entered holding their bags, a pair of roaches scuttled into a crack in the ceiling. He hoped Andy didn't notice.

"There's another motel right next door, Dean," Sam said, disapprovingly.

"And pay twice as much to sleep for a couple of hours? No," he shook his head, dropping his bag on the ground.

"This is definitely the crappiest place we've stopped at yet," Andy noted, checking the table top for grime before setting her bag down on it.

"It's not that bad," Dean smirked. "It has character."

"More like it builds character," Andy said, following the crack along the wall with her eyes.

Sam grimaced, "It probably has about five hundred characters scurrying in the walls."

"Ew, Sam!" Andy cringed, "That's so gross. Maybe we should sleep with the light on."

Dean grinned, "Afraid of a little bug? Come on, haven't you ever heard 'it's more afraid of you than you are of it'?"

Sam furrowed his brow, "Dean, are you pretending Oklahoma never happened? Because I think I'm afraid of termites now."

"Well, these aren't termites, Sammy, and we're not on an ancient Indian burial ground, so I don't think we have anything to worry about."

Andy stared at Sam, "What happened in Oklahoma?"

Dean shook his head, as if to say 'don't tell her.'

"You should have seen the swarm of roaches we had to deal with. Swarms of everything," Sam said, hoping Andy being grossed out would get Dean to agree to change motels.

"You two can freak out and spaz all you want, but we already paid for our room, and I am getting some shut eye," Dean said, taking the bed closest to the door. He kicked off his shoes and tucked his hands under his pillow, looking up at the crack in the ceiling above his bed before glancing over at the ceiling above Sam's.

Sam saw the look and quickly pulled the sheets back on his bed, relieved there weren't any creepy crawlies hiding there. Then, he laid down on it before Dean could try to pull a switch.

"I guess I'll take a shower," Andy said, walking into the bathroom. She backpedaled with a frown, "Someone clean out the bath tub for me."

Sam wasn't about to get up and risk losing his bed to Dean, so he turned his head to look at Dean with a smirk, "That falls under boyfriend duty."

Dean recognized his conniving look and shook his head, "Playing dirty." He got out of bed with a tired sigh and walked into the bathroom. "Whoa, that's a big sucker. Maybe it'll take us to the brain-bug if we follow it." He looked at her with his amused-by-his-own-joke smirk but was met with a blank stare. "Starship Troopers?"

"Ah," she nodded then stepped behind the wall, peeking in through the doorway from a safe distance. "Flush it!"

He grabbed it with a wadded up piece of toilet paper and looked back at her with a mischievous smirk, "It just wants to be your friend."

Andy fled behind Sam's bed, kneeling on the floor, "Stay away! You have roach cooties!"

Sam looked back and forth between them, "Come on, Dean, stop playing around. Those things are filthy."

He made a look of disgust as it squirmed in the toilet paper in his hand, "Yeah." He lifted the toilet seat and dropped the roach inside, but it flew out before he could flush it. "Shit!" he flailed his arm, ducking and swatting at the roach as it whizzed by his head.

"What!" Andy called out, ready to use Sam as a shield.

They heard a bang against the wall, and curious, Sam got out of bed to look inside the bathroom. Dean held a rolled up Pennysaver that had been sitting atop the back of the toilet, and it was now covered in white roach guts. Sam grimaced and went back to his bed, debating keeping his shoes on now.

Andy stood up slowly, "Did he get it?"

"Yeah, just don't look at the wall," Sam advised.

She frowned, "Gross. Maybe I'll wait on the shower."

Dean dropped the dirty magazine in the waste bin beside the toilet, "And make all that effort a waste of time?" He turned the faucet and washed his hands, being extra thorough with the soap.

She snuck up behind him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, standing on her tippy toes to reach. "Thank you, _my hero._" She grinned and looked at the wall then gagged.

Dean laughed at her involuntary reaction and turned off the water, drying his hands on the towel below the dead roach stain on the wall. "Okay, if we end up staying another night, we'll move to the motel next door."

"Thank you!" Andy hugged him, relieved.

After her shower, Andy slipped into bed with Dean. The heater had stopped working in the room while she was in the bathroom, and the temperature dropped quickly because the walls were thin and it was only 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside. He turned on his side, half awake, as she snuggled up to him, and he wrapped his arms around her before falling back asleep.

At some point in the night, Andy had turned over, facing away from Dean, and he had ended up on his stomach, drooling into her hair. She had a nightmare, or maybe it was just a feeling, something that put her ill at ease, and she woke up. The room was dark, the curtains were closed, and there wasn't a hint of the moon or starlight to illuminate the room, and there wasn't even a digital clock to provide a faint glow. Despite the complete darkness, Andy could see something darker than dark, blacker than black, standing in the doorway to the bathroom. And she realized she couldn't move. Her body was heavy; she was paralyzed. She felt anxious and frightened, uncertain of whether she was having a flashback to when the incubus had paralyzed and molested her. But this was different. She didn't feel anyone touching her aside from Dean. And she hadn't been able to see the incubus, but she could make out the shape of a man across the room. She couldn't find her voice, and she couldn't bring herself to blink, in case she'd lose sight of whatever it was. But when her eyes burned, she closed them, and when she opened them, he was still there. She felt her whole body begin to tremble and perspire, the only movement it would make until something jarred her from her half-asleep haze. She heard footsteps as it moved closer, walking past the foot of Sam's bed toward her own, filling her with uncontrollable fear. She tried to call Dean's name but only a choked out whisper of a whimper escaped her. It was enough.

Dean stirred next to her, throwing his arm over her waist and pulling her closer in his embrace, waking her up. She gasped and sat upright, staring at the shadow that hadn't dissipated in her waking state.

Dean opened his eyes, muttering, "Andy?" He reached over and turned on the light, the darkness vanished, and roaches scattered back to their hiding places.

She hesitated, "I thought I saw something."

Dean instantly became alert, looking around the room as he blinked away the sleep, "Saw what? What did it look like?"

Sam groaned as he rubbed his eyes, the light of the lamp disturbing his slumber more than their voices, "What happened?"

"It might have just been a bad dream," Andy reasoned. "Scientists call it a waking dream. It was nothing."

Dean insisted, getting out of bed and picking up his knife from his bag, "What did it look like?"

"A shadow," Andy said, watching him, "It was standing by the bathroom."

"Dean?" Sam looked concerned.

"It was just a dream," Andy insisted.

Dean wasn't so sure. "Our dad taught us that monster in the closet is real. I'm not taking any chances," he said as he walked over to the bathroom. He flipped on the bathroom light as he looked inside, then walked back to the bed and sat on the edge as he put on his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Andy asked, lying back under the covers when she realized how cold she was without his body heat.

"Going to get the EMF reader out of the car."

"Dean, she said it was just a dream," Sam said, propping himself up on his elbow.

"She saw it when she was awake," Dean tied the laces, even though he was only stepping out for a minute and the car wasn't parking more than a few feet away from their door. "Besides, you should know dreams aren't always just dreams."

He had a point. Sam sighed, "Okay, what did it look like?" He rolled out of bed to get his laptop and found himself hurrying across the room to grab it and get back to bed before it lost what warmth his body heat instilled in it.

Dean stood up and threw on his jacket before slipping outside. Andy curled up under the blanket and shivered as a tiny gust of ice cold air blew in. She answered, "It was just a shadow shaped like a man."

"Shadow man," Sam nodded. "Wait, that sounds familiar. What preceded seeing him? Did you feel anything, see anything, hear anything?"

"I had sleep paralysis," she noted. "I felt intense fear from his presence before I even saw him. I also heard footsteps when he walked past you."

Sam felt goosebumps rise on his arms at the notion that something dark and sinister had been near him, but he wasn't sure why he hadn't sensed its presence when Andy could. He typed into the search engine and started browsing.

Dean came back inside, "Colder than a witch's tit out there."

Andy smirked, "It's so cold the hookers downtown are charging twenty bucks just to blow on your hands."

Dean laughed, "Good one! Sammy, you got one too?"

"Got one what?" Sam asked, reading through forum posts.

"Cold weather joke," Andy clarified.

"Oh, uh..." Sam looked up from his laptop, thinking, "It's so cold the local flasher was caught describing himself to women."

Andy laughed, "I didn't think you'd have anything! I love it!"

Dean grinned, "Nice one." He turned on the EMF reader and checked the motel room, starting at the bathroom, but the reader showed no spike in electromagnetic energy.

"Okay, so, there doesn't appear to be any official lore on shadow men, but it's a fairly common phenomenon around the world. In fact, most people describe these shadow men as having one of two distinct features. Andy, was the shadow man wearing something?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, it was just really dark. Maybe a hoodie?"

Sam turned his laptop to face her, "Like this?"

She took one glance at the picture of a cloaked figure and pulled the blanket over her head, muttering, "Yeah. Like that."

"There's another one called the Hat Man," Sam noted. "They commonly appear during sleep paralysis and lucid dreaming, but there are accounts of them appearing to people who are awake and walking around. Usually they appear in the dark and are dispelled with light, but there are still other accounts saying they've been seen in broad daylight."

Dean looked skeptical, "And just how credible are these sources? You're not back at the Hellhounds Lair, are you?"

"No," Sam fixed him with a look. "To be fair, they did lead us to a legitimate tulpa."

Dean walked over to look at his laptop and Sam held it firmly, "There's a website dedicated to shadow people. People post about their experiences on it."

"So, there's no way of knowing who's off their rocker and who's having a real experience," Dean said dismissively before going back to his bed and kicking off his shoes and slipping out of his jacket.

"There are a lot of theories floating around out there," Sam continued. "It's possible it's just a ghost."

"A ghost that appears one of two ways all over the world?" Dean looked skeptical again.

"Good point. Maybe this is a tulpa too."

"But I'd never heard of it," Andy interjected. "Wouldn't I have to know about it?"

"Not necessarily. For a thought form, yes, but if somebody else projected the tulpa, you wouldn't have to know about it."

"What else have you got?" Dean asked.

"Well, other theories suggest a parallel universe," Sam caught the incredulous look Dean gave him and continued, "There are consistent reports of feeling like it's a malevolent entity. A few have even reported being attacked by it."

"It did make me uneasy," Andy said, "and I don't think I scare that easy."

Dean scoffed, "Says the girl that screamed and hid behind Sam because of a measly cockroach."

"Shut up," she head butted his shoulder because she was too cold to move her arms. "I wouldn't be afraid of anything when I have you two in the same room. It had to have made me feel that way."

He grinned and turned his head to kiss her forehead.

"It's hard to say what it is or why it was here," Sam shrugged, shutting his laptop. "We can look into it more after we investigate the obit we came here for. Let's just get some sleep."

Dean reached over to turn off the light and hesitated, "Should we leave the light on?"

"No," Sam voted.

"No, if it comes back, then that'll just speed up our process," Andy said, hugging Dean and wrapping her leg around him.

"Good thinking," Dean said, switching the lamp off. He didn't fall asleep right away, too alert and defensive to allow himself the luxury.

The following morning, after their morning routine of taking turns in the bathroom to clean up and get dressed, Dean, Sam, and Andy grabbed bagels from the lobby and, disguised as FBI agents, went to investigate the death of Ivan Gabb, the fourth old man to die in a bingo hall of unknown causes. Sam suspected it had to do with the location being haunted, but Dean was pretty sure 'old people just die.' He reasoned they also probably die in the same places: retirement homes, hospitals, and bingo halls.

As it turned out, the police had just uncovered a nurse that accompanied all of the victims to their bingo games and had poisoned them with an untraceable substance. She was collecting their insurance money.

"Told you," Dean said, driving them back to the motel as he loosened his tie. "Nothing supernatural about it."

"Fine," Sam shrugged, looking out the window. "It was still worth looking into."

"No, Sammy, it wasn't," Dean looked at him. "If it were, we'd be slaying a demon or banishing a ghost or something. Instead we smell like old people. And I'm hungry."

Andy sniffed herself, "We were only in that place for an hour. You don't think it really stuck with us, do you?"

Sam shook his head, "Dean's just grumpy because the 'free breakfast' they advertised at the motel was a stale bagel."

"They didn't even offer us cream cheese!" Dean shook his head. "Let's get some burgers."

Sam was hungry enough not to protest. "What I meant by 'it was worth investigating' is that it did lead us to the shadow man in the motel."

"Oh, yeah, that," Dean said, miffed. He hadn't really forgotten about it, but it was frustrating that they had nothing on it. Now it was just turning into another mystery they might not find an answer to. One moment it was there, the next it was gone, and there didn't appear to be any way to summon it at will. Even if they could, they didn't know how to destroy it because they didn't know what it was.

Andy reached over the back of his seat to massage Dean's shoulders. "You're cute when you're grumpy."

Dean looked in the rearview mirror at her and smirked, melting into the massage.

Sam looked at her incredulously, as if calling her bluff, "No, he's not!"

Dean cast Sam a sidelong glance, "Shut up."

They stopped by a drive thru to take the food back to the motel; they didn't want to give the impala a chance to become a refrigerator while they sat inside eating. When they pulled into the motel parking lot, they saw four police cars parked in front of their room. Dean pulled over by the lobby instead of pulling up to their previous spot. "Sam, are we wanted in Minnesota?"

"No," Sam furrowed his brow. "Well, maybe. That shapeshifter ordeal has you on the FBI's Most Wanted list, remember?"

"Yeah, but I paid cash. How would they have found us?"

"Look," Andy pointed. "They're in the room next to ours."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and Sam shrugged, "Well, we're already in uniform."

Dean had a pained look on his face, "But we just got our food. It's gonna be cold when we're done. Not like our room comes with a microwave."

"Hey, when is check out time?" Andy asked, looking at her phone. It was noon, even though she couldn't tell by looking at the cloudy sky.

"Eleven," Sam answered.

"Think they're gonna charge us another night?" Andy frowned.

"Well, we can't leave now," Dean said.

"But you said we could stay in the motel next door," Andy reminded him.

"Yeah, that's before the old man croaked from natural causes-"

"He was poisoned, Dean," Sam reminded him.

"Well, it wasn't a supernatural death," Dean argued. "Besides, what if that shadow thing killed somebody?"

"So, let's check out the motel room," Andy said.

"Okay, you guys go do that. I'm off duty til I have my burger," Dean said, turning the car around to park closer to their room.

Andy reached into the bag to eat a handful of fries before handing him the bag and stepping out of the car. Dean stayed in the impala to eat while Andy and Sam approached the crime scene next door to their room, their badges at the ready.

A cop held up his hands to stop them but stopped when he saw their badges. "FBI?" he raised an eyebrow. "Hey, detective?" he called back to his colleague with the local department.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" the detective, a tall black-haired woman wearing a heavy overcoat, asked as Andy and Sam put their badges in their coats.

"We're here to investigate," Andy answered as casually as she could, but her teeth were chattering. She felt starkly underdressed for the Minnesota winter.

Sam let out a breath, and it wisped around in front of him, as he tried to fight the cold. "What have you got?"

The detective considered talking outside, seeing as how they were encroaching on her territory, but subjecting them to the cold was too cruel, even for her. "Come inside. Looks like a murder. Or a freak accident."

Andy exchanged looks with Sam, wondering how the detective couldn't differentiate between the two. She followed behind Sam as they were led into the motel's bathroom, inwardly noting the room's cleanliness compared to their own room.

Sam gave the detective an expectant look as she motioned to the body lying crumpled in the shower, wrapped up in the shower curtain.

"From the ID we found in her purse, her name is Barbara Marshall, age 31," the detective explained and knelt down to move the shower curtain with a glove covered hand, revealing the victim's face. "From the looks of it, she had a slip in the shower, fell, and got tangled up in the curtain and suffocated."

Sam knitted his brows, "But you think it could be a murder."

The detective nodded, standing up, "There have been a few other deaths in this motel."

"How many is a few?" Andy asked.

"Five," the detective answered. "Started ten years ago. I've only been present to investigate the last two victims."

"So, you're thinking serial killer?" Sam asked.

"Bingo. There's not really an M.O. as far as how the killer kills his victims, if there is one. Nobody but me seems to think there is. But all of the victims are women that stay the night alone. There's an obvious pattern."

"Any other similarities between them?" Sam asked.

"They're all between the ages of eighteen and fifty years old," the detective shrugged.

"That's quite the spread," Andy said. "Who was the first victim?"

"Okay, this is the biggest reason why people doubt there's a serial killer on the loose," the detective sighed. "I did some digging, and ten years ago, a woman named Eva Bowers was murdered by her husband, but he committed suicide before the police arrived."

"Do you know which room she was killed in?" Sam asked.

"109," the detective answered.

Dean walked in to stand behind Andy and Sam, wiping french fry grease on a napkin before stuffing it in his pocket, "Were the bodies buried or cremated?"

The detective looked up at him, "Excuse me?"

"Buried or cremated?" he repeated himself.

Sam scratched his eyebrow and gestured to Dean, "This is Agent DeYoung. He's with us."

"Sending one of you wasn't enough?" the detective sighed. "They were cremated at the family's request." She saw Dean lean forward to peer into the bathtub, wondering how his question was relevant, but she continued, "What has me interested is the second death. She was found in room 203 with a pair of scissors in her neck."

"And that's interesting why?" Dean asked.

"Because in all of these cases, including this one, there were no fingerprints, no signs of forced entry, no reports of a disturbance, and no signs of a struggle. I think maybe Eva and her husband weren't a murder/suicide after all. Maybe they were just the beginning."

"So, you think Eva was killed, then her husband walked in on her body and offed himself because he just couldn't bear to live without her?" Andy suggested.

Dean smirked, "Maybe it was the guy at the front desk? He could have some mama issues he's working out." He made a stabbing motion and 'ee ee ee' noise.

Sam fixed him with a look that suggested he act professionally.

Andy stifled a grin and asked, "How was Eva killed? Is the weapon in evidence still?"

"She was beaten to death, and the only lead was the husband, who's been cremated."

Dean looked thoughtful as he glanced around the bathroom, checking the place for any sign of the supernatural, be it sulfur, ectoplasm, or something that simply looked out of place. "Has anyone ever complained about strange smells or flickering lights?"

"You'd have to ask the manager that, but uh..." the detective looked around, "I'm going to guess and say yes. Why?"

Dean realized how unhelpful that question was in a dump like this. "Is there an estimated time of death?"

"Around two o'clock in the morning according to the coroner."

Andy hadn't looked at the clock when they'd encountered the shadow man, but they all knew that they'd been right next door when this woman died and something had walked through their room.

"Thanks for your cooperation," Sam said, taking a step back, bumping into Dean on his way out of the bathroom.

They walked back to their room together, and Dean retrieved the rest of their lunch from the car. Andy shivered, grumbling, "I hate this place. It's way too cold."

"Come on, look on the bright side," Dean said, setting the bag down on the table, "Our beers will never go warm."

"_Your_ beers," Andy said pointedly and smirked at him.

Sam reached into the bag and took a bite of the burger, chewing slowly and disappointedly because it lost its heat. Andy reached into the bag for a fry and ended up spitting it out into a napkin because it was cold and soggy. She went over to her bag to retrieve a fruit bar and asked, "Okay, so, do you think murderghost was scoping me out last night before it noticed the two manly ghostkillers hanging out with me?"

Dean grinned, "You think it saw us and thought 'Better not mess with those two studs'? I like it. Maybe we eventually won't even have to hunt things. They'll just go run and hide when their spirit friends let them know we're in town."

Andy laughed, "Yeah, well, you've got a reputation among hunters. Why not the hunted too?"

Sam adjusted the wrapper on his burger, "'Studs'? Really?"

"Well, I know I'm a stud," Dean grinned, "It might have been checking Sam out for all we know."

Andy reasoned, "It _was_ hanging out by his bed."

Sam shook his head, "Shut up."

Andy pulled back the covers on their bed and slipped under them. She wasn't sure how to make her proposal sound better than she was about to, so she just blurted it out. "Hey, I was thinking maybe I should take the room next door to lure it out again."

Dean looked at her, "Nope. No way. That's too dangerous. We don't know who or what this thing is. We should hold off until we've done some more research."

Sam added, "The detective did say the bodies were cremated. Not that it's stopped spirits before."

"Right, so, what do you propose we do?" Andy asked. "All the evidence of the first murder is gone as far as they know, which is all we have to go on. We can't just let this thing keep killing women. If I lure it out, I can identify it, and with salt, iron, and holy water at my disposal, I should be able to hold it off me long enough for you to come help."

Sam looked at Dean, conflicted, "I don't like the idea of her dangling herself out there as bait, but she has a point."

Dean looked at both of them, "You two are both nuts. I mean, what if this thing isn't even a spirit? What if it's a demon or something else?"

"We could put a devil's trap under the bed just in case," Sam suggested.

"Damn it, Sam!"

Andy sat up, taking Dean's hand and smiling reassuringly, "You'll be right next door."

"Much good that did for Marion Crane last night," he retorted.

Andy gave a conceding nod, "But she didn't see it coming and now we're waiting in ambush?"

Sam interjected, "Dean. Andy's a hunter and she'll have all the defenses she needs. Plus we'll be awake this time."

Dean wasn't having it. "And what about Jo? Remember when she tried using herself as bait? We lost her!"

"That's different. And Jo was okay."

"How am I the voice of reason right now?" Dean looked at them both as they exchanged looks.

An awkward moment of silence passed between them, and Andy slapped his butt. "I'll be fine. I survived a vampire roofie, remember?" She cringed when she immediately regretted saying that. She realized using the last time she was bait to her credit was not the best idea.

Dean smirked, "What if Sam just puts on a dress with a bra that has water balloons stuffed in it for boobs? I saw some at the corner store."

Sam fixed him with a stern look, "No..."

Andy laughed, "Actually, I wouldn't mind staying another night in this roach infested motel just to see that. My bra would definitely not fit him though. We'd have to create a makeshift bungee cord out of paperclips and a shoe lace to keep it closed in back."

Sam stared at her, "No."

Andy turned to Dean, "Do you have any paperclips? Because I have a shoelace." She grinned.

Dean shrugged with a smirk, "I'll go talk to the guy at the front desk."

Sam looked incredulous, "Guys! Stop it!"

Dean grinned, "That's two votes to one for it."

Sam shook his head, setting his half eaten cold burger down, "Whatever it is wouldn't be fooled by it anyway. I'm not even feminine!"

Dean grinned, "I'm sure you'd make a pretty girl."

Andy stifled a laugh, "I don't think fooling it is even the point anymore."

Sam sighed, "Come on, you two. Let's try to stay focused. Someone else might die if we don't act now."

Andy pouted, crossing her arms. "Oh, playing the 'someone else might die' card, huh. Fine."

Dean was still reluctant to let Andy out of his sight with a woman-killing ghost running rampant. He suggested sarcastically, "What if we just go door to door and ask all the women to leave?"

Sam gave Dean a look, "And post flyers saying 'no women allowed unless accompanied by someone'?"

Dean shrugged, "It could work."

Andy shook her head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Think the ghost would still come for me if I'm texting you?"

"Probably. All it requires is a physically alone female as far as we know."

"Then, I better get ready." Andy took a shower before going next door, and Dean made sure she was armed for every contingency. Sam even chalked a devil's trap beneath the bed in case the shadow man was a demon. Demons did appear as black smoke when they didn't have a vessel, and a shadow in the shape of a human was not that far off.

Andy gave Dean a kiss on the cheek as she passed him on the way into the room. "I'll bang on the wall or scream as soon as something happens."

"Good."

Sam took a deep breath and gave her a reassuring smile, "Be careful."

Andy nodded and closed the door behind them after they left. She set the holy water on the bedside table with the canister of salt and lay down with the shotgun beside her, parallel to her body. She sighed and closed her eyes, then reminded herself not to get too comfortable. She didn't want to fall asleep and let this thing get the jump on her, so she browsed the internet on her smart phone for a while before texting Dean.

She gave it some thought and smiled, wondering what his face looked like when she used to send him provocative texts while they were apart. She hadn't done so since before his father died, months ago. She was more daring in talking dirty over text than she would be speaking aloud, but she was working up to it.

Andy texted: _I'm taking off my clothes. It's so cold in here though, I want you to warm me up. ;)_

Dean texted: _Screw this i'm coming over_

Andy could be heard laughing through the wall as she texted back: _I love you but stay put til murderghost shows up:)_

Dean lay back in bed, propping a pillow up behind him as he texted: _Naked yet?_

Andy texted: _Yes and in the meantime I'll pretend my hand between my legs is yours ;)_

Dean texted: _Youre torturing me. Pure evil_

Andy texted: _You used to like it when you were on the road without me :P_

Dean texted: _Oh I like it but knowing youre right next door and I cant do anything drives me crazy._

Andy grinned and texted: _What are you going to do when you get your hands on me?_

Sam looked up from his laptop and glanced over at Dean suspiciously, recognizing that familiar grin. "Are you two... _sexting_ each other?"

Dean looked up, feigning innocence, "What? No. Course not. She's just keeping me updated." He turned over on his side, looking back over his shoulder before replying in text: _Rip your clothes off and make you wake up the neighbors._

"Gross, Dean. I'm in the room," Sam shook his head.

Dean growled, "Go wait in the bathroom then. You're the one thinking about it!"

Andy could hear Sam's muffled voice through the wall and yelled, "Stop watching!"

Sam looked alert, "Did she just call for help?"

Dean laughed, "No, she wants you to stop perving on us."

"Ugh, I'm not perving!" Sam went back to looking at his laptop, trying to ignore Dean.

Andy texted: _I want you to bend me over the hood of your car._

Dean looked over at Sam and said sternly, "This job is bull. I say we pack up and move on."

Sam didn't take his eyes off his laptop, "You just want to find a suitable place to get into Andy's pants."

Dean muttered under his breath, "I can think of several places."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Andy could hear them talking and quickly sat upright on her knees, cupping her ear against the wall behind the headboard in an effort to understand them. The lights flickered for a moment before she felt a pressure around her throat, pinning her against the wall before she could react. She pounded the wall with her fist before trying to reach for the shotgun beside her leg, unable to breathe or call out. She could see a hazy reflection of a man in the glass picture frame across the room.

Dean and Sam looked up when they heard the pounding, and Dean scrambled for the door, grabbing his gun off the table. Sam followed him next door.

"Andy!" Dean shouted, trying to open the door. It was locked, so he backed up and tried to kick it in, but it didn't budge.

Sam knitted his brows, "It locked the room down?"

"Damn it!" Dean cursed, kicking the door again over and over, determined to break it in.

Andy nudged the shotgun with her foot, unable to see it on the other side of her body, and she lifted it under her toe, but it tipped over, falling back on the bed, nearly toppling to the floor. She willed herself not to panic as she started feeling lightheaded from being asphyxiated, and she pressed her foot hard against the mattress, digging it in to get under the shotgun. She lifted it again, pushing it up toward her hand. When she could reach it, she held it firmly in both hands, aiming it behind herself at the hip and pushed the trigger in with her thumb, dissipating the ghost and dispelling the lockdown.

The door crashed open, and Dean and Sam burst into the room. Andy sat back against the wall, gasping for air.

Relieved she didn't actually undress, Dean looked her over. "Did you get a look at what attacked you?"

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Ghost, not the shadowman," Andy answered, her voice hoarse.

Dean looked around the room. "Well, that's good. I have no frickn' idea how to kill a shadowman. Now a ghost... I can get rid of that."

Sam inspected the bathroom. "Yeah, but the body has been cremated. How are we going to get rid of it now?"

Dean sighed, "This job sucks."

"Can we talk to his dead wife?" Andy suggested.

Sam considered it, "We would need to find a medium to conduct a seance through."

Dean felt a cold draft and closed the broken door as best he could manage. "Well, that's kind of your specialty, right, Sam? Contacting weirdos over the internet."

"I'm the one who contacts internet weirdos? Need I remind you about that girl off Craigslist you emailed?"

"That doesn't count."

"Go on," Andy said, wanting to hear about this Craigslist girl. "Dish out the dirt, Sam."

Sam grinned, "Oh, it was a she... as much as me in your bra is a she."

"She used fake pictures!" Dean protested, "Just find us a medium, Sam."

Andy laughed, "It was a trap!"

"Too bad we don't have a house because it was selling a nice couch too." Dean helped Andy to her feet and grabbed the shotgun off the bed. "Let's go back to our room."

When Sam opened the door, it fell off its hinges, and he barely caught it before it hit him in the head. He propped it up against the wall and walked back to the room next door. "Yeah, I don't think this ghost is coming back while we're here."

"Good. He was an asshole," Andy coughed and switched off the light before following Sam outside.

Dean was the last one out of the room, and he suddenly felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He looked back into the darkness and shook it off before joining Sam and Andy.

After spending some time on the internet, Sam said, "The nearest medium is in Minneapolis."

"Call her," Dean said, lying back on his bed with his hands hooked behind his head.

"Now? It's almost midnight."

"So?"

"How can we be sure she's not some kind of palm reading phony?"

"If she is, we'll just burn down the motel so it doesn't have a place to haunt."

Andy looked up at him from where her head was resting on his chest. "This place could use a good burning. Who knows what kind of parasites are in the carpet alone."

"He wasn't serious," Sam said. At least he hoped not.

"Neither was I..."

"I almost believe you."

Dean whispered into Andy's ear. "Hope you weren't kidding about the hood of my impala."

She grinned and kissed his chin, "Deathly serious about that."

Sam called the medium and gave her directions to the motel, then hung up. "She's coming out here, but we have to pay 50 extra."

"That's not so bad. Maybe we can figure out how to get rid of that ghost. Maybe there's something in the motel somewhere," Andy said, turning over to press her back against Dean. "Some toenail clippings, probably. In a jar."

"Maybe," Dean said, turning on his side and running his hand over Andy's side to warm her up. "We'll be out some precious burger money, but it's worth a shot since we have no body."

"She said she'll be here in an hour," Sam said without looking up from his laptop.

"Did you ask her if she's had all her shots?"

"Burger money," Andy shook her head. "You could just sign up for another credit card."

"Don't encourage him," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hey, those credit cards help pay for all our crap, Sam. We can't get enough of those," Dean argued.

"Hey guys, we should send in our own stories to that website by the time we're done," Andy suggested.

"Oh, no, Sam and I have already encountered the wacky crap that can happen because of stories on websites."

"Fine, but I'm still submitting my story."

After an hour of watching the local news, they heard a light rap at the door. Andy sprung out of bed to answer it, but she peeked out through the dust covered curtains before opening the door. "Hi!"

A short, wiry haired woman in a hand knitted earflap tuque and matching scarf wrapped up to her chin stared at Andy suspiciously from behind her large, bifocal glasses reminiscent of the 80's. She glanced past her at Dean and Sam before responding, "I'm Susan. The medium."

"Great, come inside," Andy smiled, shivering from the draft being let in.

Susan stepped inside and sniffed Andy as she walked in, then looked around the room.

"Uh... hi..." Sam wondered if he'd made a big mistake.

"Shh, shh, shh... My senses need to absorb the room," Susan said and walked around, hands cupped at her ears. She sniffed Dean as she passed by him.

Andy gave Dean a freaked out look and moved closer, wondering how crazy hobos had internet access.

Sam backed up when she moved closer to him. "You can contact the dead, even if they're not haunting the place, right?"

She walked up to Sam and sniffed his shoulder. "I channel them, my dear boy."

"With your nose?" Dean asked.

Andy snorted as she stifled a laugh and slapped Dean's arm for his wise crack. She didn't want to be caught being disrespectful.

"I smell the dead on people... and things," Susan answered.

"That's fascinating." Andy asked curiously, "Did you smell anything on me?"

"Yes... and I smelled your pheromones. You're ovulating."

Dean let out a short laugh turned into a silent chuckle when Andy slapped his arm again.

Andy cleared her throat, "Well, what did you smell on these two?"

"Coffee and..." Susan sniffed.

Sam motioned to the coffee cup by his bed, thinking it could still be a parlor trick.

Susan stared at Dean. "This one smells different. You've encountered something... else." She touched Dean's hair.

Andy raised an eyebrow, "Something else like what? Lice?"

Sam smirked, "Maybe it's just gas."

"No, it's something... unrecognizable. Different. Dark," Susan said, placing her ear to Dean's arm. "A dark energy."

Andy crossed her arms and scoffed, "Seriously? The smell of me being horny overrides the ghost that had his hands around my throat, but a little spirit aura rubs off on Dean and you can pick that up? Smell me again!"

"Andy!" Sam looked at her like 'You're saying too much!'

"I mean..." Andy looked around, thinking of what to say, and grinned sheepishly, "Does Dean smell like pheromones too at least?"

"Overidden? No... It was just something I picked up." She stepped toward Andy and sniffed her throat. "This spirit, pure malevolence." She backed off and pointed at Dean. "And yes, this one wants to mate with you."

Dean smirked and started humming 'The Bad Touch' by the Bloodhound Gang.

Sam quickly addressed the medium before she became distracted again, "So, about the seance. We need to talk to a woman named Eva Bowers. We don't have anything that belongs to her, but she died in this motel, in room 109."

"Meet me at the room. I will get my things," Susan said, wrapping her scarf over the lower half of her face, and walked out of the room.

"That's just a few doors down," Andy said, chattering from the gust of cold air let in. "I hope it's not occupied."

"It's not," Sam said. "I checked earlier when I got the key for the room next door."

"Did you get a key for 109 too?"

"No, I didn't know we'd be going in there."

"Let's just pick the lock," Dean said, "The lobby smells like an ashtray."

They wrapped themselves up in their winter jackets and walked down the sidewalk to room 109. Dean knelt down and picked the lock and pushed the door open, then switched on the light. He sat on the end of the bed near the door with his shotgun across his lap. "This lady better not take off."

Andy fixed him with a look, "She might when she sees you sitting there with a shotgun."

Sam nodded, "She's right."

Dean sighed, "Yeah, I guess I better, uh..." He slid it under the pillow. "There. Out of sight, out of mind."

Sam closed the door behind Susan when she walked in with her oversized leather handbag and set it down on the bed next to Dean. She looked around and sniffed the air. "This room is heavy. I can feel it on my skin." She walked over to a spot near the bathroom and stopped. "We will do the seance here."

"What do you need us to do?" Sam asked.

Susan pulled a cloth from her bag and began laying out the components for the ritual. She placed a mixture of fresh herbs in a bowl in the center of the cloth and placed the candles around the corners of the cloth, one each for north, south, east, and west. After lighting the candles, she sat down and said, "Turn off the lights and join me in a circle hand in hand. I will do the talking and draw the spirit to me."

Dean retrieved his shotgun and sat with it in his lap. When Susan gave him a look, he said, "Just in case we encounter something that wants to body slam you into the wall."

"Dear, shotguns don't work on ghosts."

"Trust him," Andy said and took a seat between Sam and the medium, facing Dean and the bathroom behind him.

Dean looked back at the bathroom and headtilted toward the toilet, "Maybe we could move this someplace where I won't get sneak attacked and potentially swirlied?"

Sam smirked, "Don't feel safe even with the shotgun in your lap?"

"Want to switch spots? I have the quicker draw after all."

Sam smirked, "Nope. I'm fine right here."

Andy waited until Dean looked at her and gave him a smoldering look.

"Is that supposed to be me?" Dean asked.

Sam grinned, "Spot on, too."

"Yes," Andy grinned, "and the fact that you knew it means I did a good job."

"How much have you practiced doing that?" Dean was going to start staring at himself in the mirror to see if he could catch himself doing it. He thought she must have been exaggerating.

"Not at all."

Susan cleared her throat, "Let us begin. Join hands. I am going to recite an incantation. I just need you all to close your eyes, quiet your busy minds, and breathe."

They all joined hands and closed their eyes, but Dean opened one and looked around to make sure something wasn't popping up.

Susan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before reciting the ritual. "You who have died here speak through me. Eva Bowers. Speak through me, I beckon you forth. Speak through me. Eva Bowers..." Suddenly, her hands were heavy and her head dropped. After a moment of silence, Andy opened an eye to look at Susan and caught Dean peeking too. Susan wheezed and lifted her head, her eyes still closed. "Who are you? Why have you called me?"

Sam opened his eyes and looked at the medium. "Are you Eva Bowers?"

"Yes, why have you asked me here?"

"Did your husband kill you here?"

"Yes, he did. Is this why you've disturbed my rest?"

"He's still here. Killing people. Did he leave anything in the motel?"

Dean added, "Did he have a favorite teddy bear or maybe a brush?"

Sam gave Dean a look of disapproval.

"No, everything was taken," Eva answered.

Andy felt a heaviness behind her and a sudden fear building in intensity.

Dean could see the shadowman behind Andy, lurking in the corner of the far end of the room where the candlelight could not reach. He could feel the fear from the shadowman's influence, but it just made him want to act. He reached for his shotgun, but Sam reached over to stop him. In a whisper, Dean shouted, "What are you doing, Sam!?"

"Wait. It's just standing there."

The lights flickered and the candles were snuffed out, and the temperature in the room dropped drastically, matching the temperature outside.

"Ow!" Andy yelped when the medium squeezed her hand tightly. Susan's voice groaned and gurgled in her throat as her body convulsed. The spirit of Eva's husband flickered into sight behind Susan, reaching into her body he tried to pull the spirit of his wife out of her. Andy tried to pry her hand free, but the medium had her in a vice grip.

Dean scrambled to his feet and took aim at the spirit but the shotgun jammed. Sam stood up and ran across the room to flip on the light, ignoring his instinct to stay away from the dark form in the corner of the room, but the light switches didn't respond. "Dean! Try the bathroom!"

Dean reached around the wall behind him and hit the switches. "Not working here either!"

The shadowman moved across the room quickly, almost a blur as it appeared beside the spirit of Eva's husband. It grabbed hold of him, prying him away from Susan's body, before reaching into the evil spirit. The man wailed before exploding into a disintegrating mist of smoke and ashes.

Andy pulled her hand free, falling back from the force she put into it, and looked up at the shadow man. Her heart palpitated at the sight of him, but the lights flickered on, and he disappeared. "What..."

"Wait... what the hell just happened?" Dean looked at Sam for an answer.

"I think it just killed the ghost."

"So, what, like some kind of ghost-reaper?"

"Wouldn't that be a normal reaper?" Andy asked.

Susan groaned and propped herself up, "What happened?"

Dean answered, "You just nearly got your soul ripped out of you along with Eva's spirit by her dead, murderous husband... Then, some shadow-reaper-thing came out of the corner over there and killed it." He looked at Sam, "This was not a straightforward ghost hunt at all."

Looking on the bright side, Sam responded, "Well, that shadowman didn't attack us."

"Just made me almost pee myself," Andy muttered.

"Shadowman?" Susan looked at Dean. "That explains the smell."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "You know what this thing is?"

"Shadowmen are hunters of revenants. That is, ghosts that can't finish their business. They're a part of their past self. After being stuck in one place for too long, they deteriorate into madness, and the shadowman feeds off its energy until they destroy it."

Dean pointed at Sam, "Let's add that entry into dad's book. We'll have to give Susan credit for this one though. How do you even know about shadowmen?"

Susan looked him in the eye, "I spend a lot of time communing with spirits. It's my job and how I sometimes pass the time."

"I guess there are worse hobbies."

Sam looked at Dean, "I guess we share a little bit in common with these shadow people."

"Too bad we can't give off a 'scare the crap out of you' aura. We've gotta work to get that result."

Andy interjected, "Speaking of which, why does it do that?"

"Fear is a powerful energy. It feeds off of it," Susan answered.

"Didn't we learn from Monsters, inc that laughter is an even more powerful energy?"

Dean smirked at Andy, "Are you suggesting the shadowman tickle us to death?"

"He doesn't have to touch us. Just do a little jig, maybe some stand up if he can talk."

Sam smiled, "I don't think anyone would be laughing at a dark apparition. And you really can't rely on Disney for the laws of how the supernatural work."

"You people are weird," Susan said, packing her bag.

Dean looked at her, "Says the psychic nose lady. Does your nose pick up any more spirits hanging around?"

She started sniffing the air.

"Well... I didn't mean..."

"It's gone. That spirit will not be troubling this place any longer."

"Awesome. Now we can get our asses out of here. Sam, pay Tangina."

Sam took out his wallet and paid Susan, adding in a tip. "Thank you, Susan."

Andy frowned, walking with Dean back to the room. "My hand hurts. I think I need a bandaid."

"How bad is it?"

She held her hand up so he could inspect the damage. There were four bloody fingernail shaped punctures in her palm.

"We better disinfect that. There's no telling where her fingernails have been."

"I guess that means I'm not getting you to kiss my boo-boo, am I?"

He looked at her giving him her doe-eyed look and sighed, "Oh, fine. Let me make it all better." He lifted her hand and gave her a kiss.

Andy grinned and hugged him. "I love you."

With his arm around her, he gave her a kiss on the lips. "I can't wait to get the hell out of here."

"Me too. Somewhere warm. But cuddling up to you at night makes it more bearable."

"I'm springing for a place with a proper heater the next time we're in someplace this frickin' cold."

"I bet the hotel next door has a working heater."

Sam walked in and closed the door behind him, "But then we wouldn't have dealt with the spirits here."

"True."

"We're out of here first thing tomorrow."


End file.
